


Two Paths to One End

by Kasan_Soulblade



Series: Cut and Run [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon anime
Genre: Ash isn't quite as OK from the Aerodactyle incident as he seems, Char's a pyro, Charizard taming arc introduced, F/M, Figures the rat and cat get on well, Gen, Ketchup exposure.. Gio blames the rat for his Persian's schenanigans, Oak Giovanni freindship, Sam and Delia friendship, Team Rocket's disbanded, There are consequences to untamed dragons running rampages, mild trama for Ash from the abovie incident, or so it seems, petty crimes, retired criminals, slice of life between journeys and battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 47,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giovanni has made a deal with the police and has settled in Pallet after his betrayal, but not all acounts are settled, and no all ghost rests easy.  The consequences of the story "Innocent" explored, with revelations from the past to as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dynamic of Tension

 

Two paths One end

chapter one

Prelude: Dynamics of Tension

Ash yawned, kicked his feet against the chair and watched as Pikachu was laced with small wires with weird mini plate-like plastic patches put over his head and face. Pikachu yawned, did a little stretch and lay on his back while Professor Oak attached the last pad and then walked to a small waist high machine and turned it on. On another table less then five feet away was a Persian who was blissfully napping, a mess of wires hooked the feline to a different machine yet it was of the same type. Sitting beside his Persian, on a lab stool, was Leonardo Giovanni, ex-head of Team Rocket, criminal mastermind, murderer, and thief. He lazily petted his sleeping Persian, dressed as always in an orange suit, wearing a crimson tie that wrapped around his thick neck and lead the eye to those blank expressionless features. A fearow sharp nose and twin black eyes gazed over everything in scorn, showed nothing, offered nothing to even the most trusted. The petting was mechanical, not a tender warm gesture, just a repetitive motion that had nothing behind it. As if sensing the scrutiny Giovanni turned from his Persian and stared at Ash.

Ash cringed back from those eyes, went back to watching Pikachu sleep.

Professor Oak smiled, then his the gesture by screening his face behind a clipboard.

"Well both come back as being healthy, the brain activity is not sporadic nor is it subpar…"

"Meaning?" Ash scratched at the back of his head, as much as his first edition Poke-League hat would allow.

"Both Persian and Pikachu are in ideal health; I think it best to let them sleep in the lab as they had a long night last night."

"Mmm…" Ash nodded, stood and stretched and Oak dropped his screen to look at him piercingly.

"Let me guess. Pikachu kept you up?"

"He got lonely so I stayed up wi' him." Ash mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Ah, well your Mother called and she asked me to see you take a nap, which is exactly what I'm going to do. You can make yourself at home on the couch."

"Wasn't Giovanni sleepin' there?"

"I don't harbor some dangerous disease boy; you'll hardly catch anything from me."

Ash grumbled something not so complimentary under his breath and Giovanni gave him a long hard look. Things were crazy, dead criminals living with Professors, Leonardo being a hero and a villain, it was just nuts. At least Pikachu was taking it alright, sparing a look at the electric type who was blissfully sleeping on the table less than ten feet from a Pokemon who on command would probably rip him in half.

It was confusing and crazy; Ash rubbed his eyes and looked at Professor Oak.

"I'll do that."

X

"Checkmate." Samuel grinned, knocking over Leo's king with an extended digit.

"Hurmph." Leo glared at the board then acknowledged defeat with a sigh. "Must you do that? It's a rather juvenile display."

"If you act young then you stay younger longer." Samuel countered. "Plus consider my job, I'm surrounded by children, some of their habits have to rub off."

Leo righted his King, set up the board for yet another round. About mid game there was a knock on the door frame, Leo didn't bother to look up but Samuel turned.

"Oh hello Ash, awake at last?"

"Yep, Pikachu's up too so we'll be heading out now."

"Pika pi!" The small yellow mouse chirped from Ash's shoulder.

"Alright, I'll tell you how the experiment went tomorrow alright; I need some time to go over my notes…"

"You mean you need to kick Giovanni's butt."

"Go run along home little boy." Leo hissed, his black eyes flashing with anger.

"Pika.." Pikachu sighed.

"Ash, please be civil to Leonardo, he is my guest…"

"Pikapi!" Pikachu poked Ash on the head.

"Why's everyone taking this OK, you can't tell me that this doesn't weird you out just a little?"

Oak chuckled. "It's strange, but that's nothing new. As a researcher I find that situations are like this are much like…"

"Not Poke-poetry!" Giovanni and Ash groaned.

"…a norm." Samuel gave them both a long hard look. "If there is anything strange, it's your shared hatred of poetry."

Ash poked his small friend and the yellow mouse let go of his ears and sighed in relief.

"If three completely different people do not like your work perhaps that _means_ something?" Leonardo said delicately.

"That you all are uncivilized literature haters." Oak sniffed, sounding offended. "It could mean that."

"Chu!" Smacking his face with a paw Pikachu sighed, showing all their feelings that Oak would never learn.

"We'll be going, see you Professor!"

"Goodbye Ash." Professor Oak smiled at him.

"Really Samuel, perhaps you could… find another past time."

Ash lingered by the door to listen to how this would turn out.

"So says the man with none."

"I have a past time!"

"Training, or counting money?"

"Sam…" Giovanni growled that name ominously. "That goes a bit too far for my tolerance, even though you stand in my good graces."

There was a long pause. "It was… still your demand that I quit my poetry is almost as offensive."

There was the sound of someone getting up. "I imagine you were busy before I came, Samuel, and I would be loath to keep you from your studies."

"Leo… you don't have to…"

"I'll retrieve Persian and see myself out. Have a good evening my friend."

"Still as touchy as ever…" Professor Oak sighed to himself. "Tomorrow Leo?"

"If I am not busy… perhaps."

Ash decided now was a good time to get going, before Giovanni spotted him and decided to do Team Rocket-ish things to him, because if Professor Oak was in Giovanni's good graces Ash knew that he was in the worst possible standing with the ex-member of Team Rocket. After all you didn't win any points for shocking Rocket grunts with Thunder and soiling so many plans that the organizations started to go into debt. Oh Ash knew just how touchy Giovanni was and he knew that if Professor Oak wasn't there to keep a very tight leash on the man that everyone in Pallet would be in serious trouble.


	2. Prep

Two Paths to One End

Chapter Two

Preparations for a Celebration

" _Well Giovanni, you have us in a corner."_

" _I am a business man, the nature of trade, of negotiation, that is my strong point."_

" _You state your deal, the only one you're willing to make, and you fall silent for days, other men would have broke."_

" _To be what I am." Giovanni let his lips curl into a mocking smile. "You must have... exceptional physical and mental constitution."_

" _You're a bastard."_

" _I am." Giovanni smiled, leaned back into his chair, away from the glaring lights and into the comforting darkness. "I never doubted or disputed that."_

" _Let's play a little game, we go along with your deal." The officer leaned across the table. "What's that get us?"_

" _The records on ever Rocket activity, every member of Team Rocket from the last fifty years, and the execution of the most dangerous members." Black eyes traced the blue clad man's every moment, he knew the game they were playing now. Good cop bad cop, Giovanni watched and waited for the man to suddenly change moods, this was the only bit of entertainment he was going to get in a good while._

" _What the Hell does that give us, nothing that we wouldn't get with effort!"_

" _Without lives." Giovanni clarified, his lips curling in a mocking smile, this man was far too predictable. This officer was hardly a challenge. "You will lose lives, but if you go my way it will be more then likely that the only life that will be lost is mine. And if I somehow live... what do I get, my life and freedom? That wont last very long Officer. I have many enemies and in all probability even though I will be legally dead one of them will see me and assassinate me. Therefore you will get everything and I will ultimately lose."_

" _So you'll freely commit murder, what kind of society would we be if we allowed a murder to go free?"_

" _It's the lesser of two evils, but that decision is not in your hands and I will say nothing more until the one who can make that decision is present."_

_A hand snapped around his wind pipe, fingers dug into his throat. No one would save him, no one would bother to save a criminal, Giovanni would save himself. He grasped the wrist of his assailant, ripped away the man's tightening fingers and shoved the Officer back._

" _You'd be best served to learn how to kill someone before you try it." Giovanni wheezed, looking down at the man, scorn dripping from his tone. "But remember Officer, kill me and you will lose everything, every scrap of information on the Rockets, you will lose any prayer of seeing this organization fall in your life time. So don't do something you'll regret."_

_Since the man was down and since he had brought Giovanni pain the leader of Team Rocket decided to kick the bastard while he was down. That brought the guards, and a lite beating. He had expected nothing else from this order of hypocrisy however._

X

He lived alone for the most part, in a shadowed little section of Samuel's reserve, on the innermost recesses of the rock type reserve. The terrain was jagged, hard, and filled with a hundred and one small hiding places. He liked that, his instincts of being a thief liked that, and his rock and ground types weren't all that adverse to the environment. Persian however was not pleased with the dusty hard living that they made for themselves, and truth be told despite all of it's benefits he found the hard living in bad taste. He'd grown soft over the years, and had become a creature who craved comfort.

"Would you rather travel in your Pokeball?" Giovanni asked his Persian after yet another low "Murow" came from that ivory hued throat.

In response Persian lifted a paw and pointed out a chipped claw.

"I am not carrying you!" Leo spat. "You have two, excuse me four legs, you can walk much better then I."

"Merow!"

"Don't use that tone on me." Leo hissed, whipping his face with a hand and taking a long draw from the water bottle he had strapped to his belt. "I hate hiking as much as you do. We're too old to be doing this regularly."

Persian rolled his crystal hued eyes then darted past Leo, that old goad was golden. It never failed to make Persian grit his fangs and ignore his pains and go forward. They weren't old so much as pampered, but opulence did that. Ease could make you weak if you allowed it, and he had in the more recent years. A few months of discomfort, of continuous exercise, and he'd probably be back in the same physical prime as he had been when he was in his late teens.

If all the bloody walking and hiking didn't kill him first.

X

"Yuck... Mom do I have to?"

"This is important to Samu- Professor Oak, very important, and hasn't he been there for you every tournament when he could make it."

"Yeah." Ash sighed. "I dunno Mom, it says "formal dinner" and I'm just not very formal."

"Don't worry, you'll do fine. Tracy, me, and of course you will be going." She reached out with a slender hand, pulled off his hat and stroked his hair. Instinct made him squirm away and wail out in protest. "Now go upstairs and find your old suit and tie and we'll see how it still fits you."

The second he was gone Delia flicked the "visual on" switch on her phone.

"How formal was the last one, scale one to ten."

Samuel looked worried. "I'd give it an eight."

"We have a problem, you know Ash, you know how informal he is..."

"Don't worry Delia, I called up someone who I think can give your son some pointers, if nothing else he should be able to bodily drag Ash to a mens clothing store and get him in something slightly respectable."

"Your not serious, you don't think he'd put up that much a fuss..."

"He's grown into more stubbornness as he's grown older, and my friend is perhaps the most stubborn man alive, Ash will have to be a lot older before he can out Touros the man I called. Ah, I've another person on the line, I bet it's him calling back, well I'll call you tomorrow to..."

"Moooom there's a problem!"

"I'm sorry Samuel, I have to go."

Samuel smiled warmly, his grey eyes softened, his face relaxed out of it's stern mask of knowledge and he chuckled.

"As am I, well till tomorrow then Ms. Ketchum, have a pleasant night."

"Goodnight Samuel." She hung up, then turned to her son's room. "What's the matter dear?"

"It's way too small Mom." Ash's head poked out from behind the mainly closed door. "I can only get the vest on!"

"Well come out and let's take a look at it."

Delia nearly choked on her knuckle to keep from howling in laughter. Wearing his jeans, hat, and shirt, combination he looked absurd in that tiny black vest. It was too small, Ash had to hunch his shoulders together to make it slide over him and if he so much as stretched the fabric would probably rip in half.

"It looks dumb."

"No dear it just doesn't... fit that's all." Delia managed to keep from laughing by the thinnest of margins, though her voice had a suspicious waver to it that luckily for her Ash did not catch.

"Pikachu, does this look..."

The small yellow mouse yawned, hopped down from the chair he had been sitting on and padded over to them. He took one look at Ash and snickered between two paws.

"See it does look bad, I'll just wear my lucky shirt and shorts and hat OK."

"Professor Oak asked us to dress properly."

"It is proper, it's special and formal, I wear it every time I go to a big battle."

Pikachu began to make a few coughing noises at that point and Delia poked him with a toe, telling him mutely to behave.

"Why don't you tell Samuel about that decision, maybe he can help you."

"Ummm OK."

Little did he know with those words he sealed his doom.

X

"Samuel... I got your message, you needed me to do something for you?"

Leo leaned back into the large chair, and since there was no one to impress nor paperwork scattered upon it he set his feet on the edge of the large wooden desk before him. The room was dark, as he favored it, and the shadows masked his face and form from any others in the room. Not that there were any others, but over the years he had grown fond of having at least one dark gloom ridden room. In such rooms he held power of intimidation, and though here the mere Ghastly taste of power caressed him. He liked the feeling, sometimes ached for a more firm authority, for others to sway... But that path was barred to him, to try to retake it would be to die. So he settled for the mere shadow taste of power and watched the long black cord from the normal talking phone sway back and forth, it was little more then a moving thread of night in the shadow choked room.

"Yes, this may seem a bit strange... But I need something under the lines of a dangerous favor."

Giovanni rose an eyebrow, this most certainly was an odd start to a conversation.

"Samuel, I'd expect this tone from you if you were asking me to kill someone. What's wrong?"

"Well you see... I need... You know about the awards."

"Yes, congratulations on that discovery about the Charizards, unfortunately I won't be able to go. Someone might figure your "friend Leo" is Leonardo Giovanni, and that is far too dangerous a gamble for me or Pallet, to run."

"I know, it's just... I asked Delia, Gary, Tracy and Ash to go and..."

"And?" Leo leaned back into his chair, decided to take the upcoming bad news in a relaxed state so that he might feel the anxiety thrill through him and break the peace he had established. Perhaps having to break through a moment of peace it would be less powerful when it struck him, who knew? He normally took bad news badly and was famous for ignoring the saying "Don't kill the messenger Pidgey.".

"It's formal and Ash and Tracy are the most informal young men I've ever met. Tracy will only need a talking to but well Ash..."

"And? Just hire someone to give them lessons in it, or give it to them yourself. I certainly ran you through the proper etiquette ages ago, and I know you haven't forgotten all that I taught you."

"Well I'm busy tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, so..."

Giovanni grimaced at the hundred and one implications that "so" held. He glared into the gloom and missed a stroke on his Persian. Not liking being neglected Persian hissed, and grabbed the still hand claws out. Hissing in pain Giovanni unhooked the claws from his skin, then firmly shoved the annoyed Persian from his lap.

"The answer is no."

"Leo... please, I'm desperate, you know how much they mean to me and well I'd like to have someone to talk to at this blasted thing."

"You are asking me to give etiquette lessons to two children? I hate children and you know that. You must be growing senile if you've forgotten. The answer is no, and that answer is final."

"They also need suits."

"No." Leo glared at the dark. "I will not."

"Alright, how's your shoulder doing?"

Leo blinked, then felt his mouth sag open. "You conniving, double crossing, manipulative, son of a..."

"It was just an innocent question." Samuel said smoothly. "Are you sure that you aren't..."

Leo's eyes blazed, Persian hissed, sensing the tension, the anger, and with ears slicked back the Pokemon made a wise retreat out of the room.

"I may use whatever ends I feel are justified?"

"Short of holding them at gun point and hurting them, yes."

Leo gritted his teeth, but then a cold cruel smile made his lips turn upwards.

"Alright then, it's a deal."

"Ahh Leo... why the sudden..."

"You probably need to get going, since you're so busy." Leo said smoothly, his voice liquid malice. "When will they be coming in?"

"Tomorrow..." Samuel sounded worried and Leo chuckled.

"Don't worry Samuel, I won't hurt them, on my honor I wont lay a hand on them."

"Alright, well I need to..."

Leo made a noise and then hung up, the smile still curling his lips.

"But if someone else does the hurting on my command." Leo stroked the red orbs that hung from his belt. "Well that's something else isn't it?"

X

Ash and Tracy were talking in the back room. They fell silent when Giovanni calmly strolled into their presence. Ash stiffened, Tracy shrank back into his chair, and Samuel sighed.

"Must you come in with the 'I'm going to destroy the world' posture and aura all about you?"

"You're the one who black mailed me into this, I will carry out this... task with what means I see fit."

Tracy whimpered at that, all but curled into the chair in an attempt to disappear. Leo smirked at the boy's fear, took pleasure that he was still capable of inspiring it when he needed to. Ash met his gaze with open defiance.

"Why are you here?"

"Samuel informed me you know nothing of manners, grace, and he also told me you have no clothes beyond that limited style which you dueled me in. I am here to remedy that situation on all counts."

"Professor you didn't..." Tracy squeaked.

"I did, because it was needed. Although it's mainly for Ash's benefit..."

"Benefit?" Ash protested. "Well I'm not going with you." Ash crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I don't need to learn anything, much less take lessons from a Rocket."

"Oh really?" Leonardo purred. "I was hoping you'd say that."

X

"Pika!" Pikachu gapped at the sight, Tracy gapped at the sight, Professor Oak watched, forgetting his studies at the sight.

And what a sight it was.

Ashton Satoshi Ketchum was in Staryu position. Arms sprawled out, legs spread wide, each digit clenched around the door frame a very pissed Giovanni shoving at his back trying to make him go through the door instead of cling to it. There were -literally- claw marks on the other two door Leo had already pried Ash from. Third time was a charm however, Ash had gotten a perfect grip and Leo was working himself to a heavy sweat trying to pry, if you used his words, "the brat" from the frame.

"Are you three or thirteen?" Leo snarled, he was fingering something on his belt, a sick feeling gathered in Samuel's gut.

"You can't trust him Professor Oak, he's a sociopath!"

"Shut up!" Leo roared.

"Pika!" Pikachu cried out in protest, electricity sparked from his checks.

"No Pikachu, that would not be a good idea, you'll hit Ash." Samuel patted the small Pokemon's head. "Don't worry Leo won't hurt him, I hope..."

"You have till the count of three boy, before I summon my Rhyhorn and have him use horn drill. I'll let you imagine where the attack will land. One..."

Ash wisely let go of the frame, but then decided to bolt.

"Persian, deal with it."

Purring the feline Pokemon bound after Ash, claws fully extended.

"I just want to let you know." Tracy said quietly. "I'm not going to give you any problems what-so-ever."

"Good, at least you have signs of some intelligence." Leo hissed, the man watched dispassionately as Persian swatted the boy's legs and the child went down in a heap. "You might suggest to your friend he pick up some of your wisdom when dealing with me."

Oak winced with Ash was head butted by the normal type. That was the final straw for Pikachu. With a challenging cry the electric type dashed past Leo to thunder shock the Persian. The electric type missed, Ash cried out in pain and a three way battle between the two Pokemon and human began.

"Delia is going to kill me."

"Who?" Leo watched the rather entertaining if violent show going on before him with a slight bitter smile gracing his lips.

"Ash's mother."

Leo looked to him, stared at Samuel for a long moment.

"Ash's mother, and why did you invite her to this... scientific award ceremony?"

"She's a friend."

"Indeed." Leo went back to watching the violence before him, a mocking curl to his lips that was not wholly malicious. "You have strange friends."

Samuel chuckled. "When you're friends with an ex-criminal master mind everyone else seems normal."

 


	3. Fluf and Foreshadow

Two paths to one end

Chapter 2

Fluff and Fore-shadow

_Samuel..." Giovanni raised an eyebrow as the normally stoic and reserved man on the other end of the phone line all but bounced off the walls of his lab. "Have you gotten into the way of a Gengar's confuse-ray or a Golbat's supersonic?"_

" _No," Samuel squealed, sounding all the world like a girl given a millionaire's credit card with the instructions to "do a little shopping". "I checked the mail!"_

" _You... checked the mail?" Giovanni blinked, looked to the small calender on his wall and seeing no upcoming holidays was still baffled. Samuel would shine with joy at getting a Christmas card or some random trinket from a relative or friend, but they were in the middle of the year with no holidays for a few months to come. Giovanni watched the older man proceed to start a dance that looked suspiciously like the "electrode slide" and wondered how long it was before he either bust out into laughter or hung up on Samuel in exasperation._

" _I checked the mail!" Samuel sang._

_Giovanni felt his eyes were going to pop from his head, Samuel was 'singing', then the head of team rocket frowned as a thought came to him._

" _Are you drunk?"_

" _I only had a little..." Samuel grinned, his eyes were just a little too bright, a little too unfocused, but it shouldn't be enough to totally toss all reserve to the wind, at worst the researcher was... genteelly drunk not roaring drunk. "But it's a special occasion so I said what the heck, you only live once!"_

_Giovanni snorted. "You nearly killed me after I got drunk the first time."_

" _I worked it out of you." Samuel grinned, Giovanni decided that yes, he would hang up. "I have some good news."_

" _M hmmm..." Giovanni's hand went the visual phone's disconnect button._

" _I won the ARPBY!"_

_Giovanni stared blankly at Samuel wondering just how many glasses of overindulgence Samuel had really wallowed in. Samuel broke out into warm laughter, seeing and understanding the thoughts that were going through his ex-pupil's mind._

" _It's an acronym for "highest award regarding poke-science breakthrough of the year"."_

" _Pardon?" Giovanni snickered, and at that noise Samuel scowled._

" _Stop laughing at me Leo, I'm not that drunk not to notice what's going on."_

_Giovanni bit on his tongue to keep from laughing at the indignant tone Samuel used on him. At last, certain he had mastered himself Leo managed a strained._

" _Congratulations."_

" _Thank you, you will be attending the event right?"_

_Samuel then unleashed an Arcanine gaze that could have melted hearts of stone. Wincing, wondering what the hell he was getting into, Leo mentally sighed. He managed a slight quirk of his lips._

" _Of course, but only if you give me the date."_

X

"I feel sorry for them." Leo sipped at a glass of water, Samuel who was seated across from him moved a pawn on the board and Leo grimaced.

"Almost as much as I do, it was entertaining the first time but the second, by the third it was tedious..." Samuel sighed, took Leo's pawn with one of his own. "So how did you get Ash to dress in a suit and tie? Delia kissed me for dressing her son in something formal, she told me she's been secretly been trying to get him in something decent since he was little."

"You were kissed?" Leo rose an eyebrow and Samuel blushed.

"I.. It was... just a friendly gesture..."

Leo laughed. "Indeed, friendly, I'll believe that when you find me a fighting psychic type under a rock."

"J... just answer the question!" Samuel was turning crimson and Leo toned his laugh down to a quiet chuckle.

"I bodily dragged him to the store, threatened to hurt him and he became very meek and mild after I sicced Persian on him a few times."

"Leo you promised!"

"You asked me not to point a gun at him or hurt him, so I allowed Persian to smack him a few times." Giovanni moved the defending bishop in line with Samuel's Queen. "You were vague and I used a loop hole." Seeing Samuel's look of annoyance Leo sighed. "You know what I am, of course I'm going to tweak a deal when I feel I can get away with it."

"Leonardo Satoshi Giovanni..." Samuel dragged out the name to inject all of his annoyance into the those few words.

"I am a business man Sam." Leo stared at the board. "Half honest at best. I am as honest with you as my training will allow me to be."

Professor Oak sighed. "When will you stop being "the business man" and just be Leonardo?"

Leo winced ever so slightly. "I'm working on it."

"Work harder at it." Samuel bumped off Leo's rook and the ex-head of team rocket winced for quite a different reason then the first.

X

Light, flashes of light from the glaring bulbs, voices chattered around him as he took the small medal and made a general speech. He was gracious, thankful, happy that his work could help others, so on and so forth. It was all rehearsed, and he wished for not the first time that his work would allow him to make his discoveries, have someone make a note of them, then maybe send him a grant through the mail. He happily allowed the younger scientists to take the reins of conversation, allowed them to go on and gush about how honored they were. He was honored, yes, and those he were grateful to knew he was grateful to them and would not appreciate the spotlight in the slightest, so he said only as much as he needed to then wove through the knots of bright conversation.

"Congratulations Professor!" Ash embraced him, then they both were embraced by Tracy who was so excited to be here for the first time that he nearly squeezed them both to pieces.

"You did great Professor!"

"Th.. Thank you Tracy..." Oak managed to wheeze, the grip relaxed a little and Oak managed to catch his breath. "Thank you for coming."

"No problem!"

"Pika pi!"

Ash and Pikachu had refused to be separated. So much so that when they had been informed that unclothed Pokemon could not come on the premisses Ash had ran back to the store where Leo had taken him and trainer and Pokemon had come in that matching black suits. The look of the crisp vest, white shirt, and glossy black pants was quite an improvement, and someone (probably Ash's mother) had slicked back the boy's black hair and he looked... Well almost like he could fit into one of Leo's old social circles. Sitting with his friends, they ate the meal offered, it was a glimpse of the finer foods that graced the pallets of the wealthy. It was show food really, still he knew how to eat it and gave a quick lecture on the subject so that there weren't any mishaps. Well discounting when Pikachu snatched up the ketchup bottle and ran outside.

X

"Pi...ka pi!" Grumbling about the weight Pikachu held the glass bottle in two paws and walked human style outside. It was more of a waddle then a walk, but a certain scent had tickled his nostrils and he wanted to see if he was right. With all the big footed humans gone and all the voices inside with the electric lights that buzzed like small thunder shocks, Pikachu set the bottle down and sniffed the air. The smell was stronger, the source of that strange yet familiar smell was very close.

"Piiii ka!" the small yellow Pokemon called out. "Pika piiii!"

"Merrrr..."

A thick paw, almost as big as his head tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He hopped, small stars of electricity snapped around his cheeks, then with a apologetic "Chu" the mouse settled down. Unfazed Persian yawned, stretched, his fore paws and wiggled his claws out from their velvet sheaths. The normal type carelessly sank them into the grass lawn around the big important human building and then plopped on his side. Eyeing the bottle the large feline shaped creature offered a curious purr and reached out with a paw to roll it over.

Seeing the beloved tomato picture Pikachu sighed, Persian only looked a bit worried. Obviously the red thing wasn't a Magicarp, a Goldeen, or Ratata, not knowing what it was only that the Pikachu was smitten with the bottle Persian lashed his tail in annoyance.

Sensing his companions mood Pikachu explained it all in a few "pika pi's" and a few sophisticated "chu's". A Persian could not frown, it's face wasn't right for it, but the crystal eyes squinted up in disbelief and the teeth were bared in distaste.

Determined to prove he was right Pikachu twisted the cap to open it.

Well that was the plan.

Little paws tried to grip but he lost his grip and staggered forward to land on his face in the grass.

"Chu..."

Quicker then most could blink Pikachu hopped to his feet and tried again, and yet again his small feet slipped on the grass and again he was face first in the stuff.

"Perrr?"

Pacing around the bottle, eyes alight in curiosity, Persian firmly pushed Pikachu aside then drew a glittering claw. Howling in pain at the horrible noise of claw shearing through glass Pikachu grabbed his ears and folded them, stuffing his paws over them for good measure. Suddenly with a loud 'crack' and drip there was silence, well except for purring of course. Cracking an eye open Pikachu stared at the bottle that was now cut in half. It was strangely shaped for a bowl, but it was a lot better then prying off the top and putting blobs on the ground or asking Ash to give him some. Mainly because Ash like to take away the bottle before he got more then a mouth ful!

"PIKA!" Hugging Persian, who stared at him and made an annoyed 'merr' sound, Pikachu lead the normal type to the other half of the split long-ways bottle. Persian only looked in complete confusion and no little alarm as Pikachu dipped his paws in the red acidic smelling stuff and then licked his yellow paws clean.

"Pika.." Pikachu scooped some of the stuff up and offered a pawful to the surprised feline.

"Merrr..." Persian slicked his ears back, then sighing licked the offering.

"Pika?"

"Perrr!"

With happy purrs and pika's the two quickly emptied the half of the ketchup bottle and then started up on the other one. When they finished the big feet (non trainer humans) stomped past them, a few pointed and made annoying high pitched squeals that sounded like "ooh sooo cute"

"Pika?"

"Merr." Persian shrugged and with the air of the worldly swished a paw through the air to indicate that they would best ignore them.

So they did, watched lazily with fully bellies and half closed eyes as the big feet walked by and made strange noises that made no sense. Pikachu and Persian were somewhat fluent in human, having been with their trainers for a long time, but when it wasn't their trainers talking, well it was harder to understand.

"Pikachu!"

Recognizing that voice Pikachu perked his ears up, answered with a happy, "Pika pi!".

Persian rumbled his annoyance at both their loudness, then licked his fore paw clean of the red goop that tasted surprisingly good.

"Hey, what are you doing out here buddy, I was getting worried."

"Pika pi chu chu pika!"

"Well did you have fun?"

"Pi-ka!" Pikachu nodded and from its grassy bed Persian made an amused "merow" that seemed to crawl from the base of his throat.

Ash looked down, stared at the Persian and almost dropped him! Startled Pikachu snatched Ash's wrist, finding a paws path on the trainers arm till he was perched on Ash's shoulders.

"Where's Giovanni!" Ash yelled.

"Per?"

"Ash, sweetie, we're heading home now..."

Ah now there was someone who'd understand! Perking up, because Ash's mother _always_ understood Pikachu pricked both his ears and greeted her with a relieved "chu".

"Ummm I'm coming Mom!"

Persian's eyes flared open, there crystal depths seemed to shatter and reveal a kitten Meowth-like glee. Purring Persian hopped to his paws and ran between Ash's legs, wove between a few startled humans...

"Hey, where do you think you're going!" Ash charged after Persian and Pikachu dug his little claws into Ash's shoulder to keep from falling. With earth shivering, jerky, strides Ash bulled past the crowd, following the fleeing Persian. It wasn't a long run, Persian had attached himself to the heals of Ash's mom, and was rubbing himself back and forth across the startled woman's legs.

"Merow!" Persian stopped rubbing and sat on the she-human's shoed feet, milk white tail happily curled up at the tip.

"Per-smookums?"

"Merow!"

"Mom... Hey get away from there!"

Hissing, Persian turned on Ash, claws out in a flash. With a protesting cry Pikachu hopped from Ash's shoulders and swished his tail from side to side setting off a small rain of sparks behind him.

"Pika pika!"

"Merrrroooow!"

"No... bad Persian!" Delia snapped, reaching down and grabbing the startled normal type by the scruff.

"Mom all Persian's are bad tempered look out he's going to scrat-"

Persian hung limp in Delia's grip, made an annoyed noise and waited patiently to be put down.

"You, cat, shoo... go on..." Pale, a little shaken, Delia put the feline down and the Persian looked up at her, obviously hurt. "Shoo... bad cat..."

"Merow?"

"Go on, go home."

Blinking Persian cocked his head to the side then padded off toward's Professor Oak's den. Wondering what the heck was going on Pikachu rubbed his hurting head with a paw and let out a confused "chu".

"Come on dear, let's head home."

"Alright Mom."

"We can have some nice meatloaf and we'll give some ketchup to Pikachu, he seems sad for some reason and I know ketchup will cheer him up! Won't it dear?"

"Pi..." Pikachu looked up then managed a happy sounding noise that made the human's happy.

"Chu..."

"Don't worry 'chu." Ash ruffled the fur between his ears. "Leo was probably just letting it out and it came here or something."

"Leo?" Delia twitched slightly, turned to face Ash. "Do you know a man named Leo?"

"Kinda." Ash laughed. "He's a jerk, but he likes Professor Oak so I try to be nice to him, but he's so..." Ash shivered.

"Hmmm." Ash's mom really hadn't said anything, she just made that weird noise human's like to make sometimes that meant many things but said nothing all at once


	4. Illegal Research

Two paths to One End

Chapter three

"Illegal Research"

"Samuel, I need to talk to you about something." Delia had come to his doorstep before dawn, a strange occurrence that all but screamed "emergency" to him. He nodded, opened the door, and let her inside. It had been a late night, and now it was going to be a very early morning it seemed. She did not teasingly comment on the wild skew that was his hair, nor did she even apologize for her timing. Instead, she came in, her face pale, her expression troubled. For a woman who rarely frowned, and almost always smiled, such a change was more than just alarming.

"Here, take a seat, Mrs. Ketchum."

"Thank you, Samuel." She managed to look at him, see him at long last. She had blindly trailed along behind him, and seemed startled that he had lead her to his study. It was a cozy room, every wall - save those that had doors - had stained oak bookshelves; they were a gift from Leo years ago. The contents of the room were made up of a heavy leather chair, a stool, a few short tables -most covered in books- that served as a permanent place for a chess set, and a throw rug in the center of the wooden floor. He offered her the leather chair and took the other for himself so that they sat across from each other.

"Last night... Ash mentioned that h- you know a man named Leo." Delia licked her lips; she was shaking ever so slightly.

"Yes, I have a friend by that name." Oak frowned, this was looking bad, not only for himself but for Giovanni.

"There was a Persian, a crystal-eyed Persian."

Damn it, Leo! Couldn't you keep the bloody thing in for one night! Samuel mentally cursed his old friend, but turned his face to a cool, impassive blank expanse that betrayed none of his turmoil.

"Is that common?"

"N... no, it's not very common, not to say that it is say that it is a one of a kind phenomenon, but it is very rare."

"I knew a man by the name of Leo who had a Persian, a Persian with eyes the color of crystal."

"You did?" Samuel raised an eyebrow to convey his surprise.

"Yes... we were close friends; it was before I met Will, my husband." Samuel shifted a bit, uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. "I really need to know if it was the same man's Persian. Could you... I know you're busy but..."

"I'll look into it for you." Samuel smiled slightly. "Can you give me the full name of this man?"

"Leonardo Giovanni." Delia whispered. She looked shamed, and she had some cause for that. Any other person, any other poke-scientist, would refuse her out-right. For the man she named was considered a murderer of Pokemon, since he had ties to the Rockets, and no honest researcher would have anything to do with a Rocket. She knew that, and so did Samuel.

"Delia." Samuel wished he stood right by her so he could take her hand in his and give her some comfort. He could not - not with a table between them, and he had a feeling that if he stood, or made any sudden moves, she'd bolt. "I'll look into it for you, but why is this so important? He's dead, Delia. For God's sake, his house was burnt to the ground and they found his body, and..."

She gave him a long look, and the hair on the back of his neck pricked up in response; it was as if she was looking through him and seeing what was in his mind.

"They never found his Persian."

Hearing his own words, hearing Leo's words before Samuel _knew_ , the scientist shivered.

"You'll do it?"

"Yes."Samuel was going to be making a call the second Delia was gone, and he could give a Magikarp's attack value for a Splash move that Leo hated being woken up before sunrise. "And the second I have any information I'll let you know."

"Thank you... I know this is going to hurt your reputation..."

"Not any more then my friendship with Giovanni ever did." Samuel stood, walked to the leather chair, and offered the younger woman a hand. She shyly took it and he smiled encouragingly. "I'll gallantly take the small hits to my reputation if it helps you, but will you tell me why?"

"I... knew a Leo Gianni," Delia whispered, " _and_ a man named Leonardo Giovanni. I have a history with both men before I... met Will. If it is his Persian, and no one has a claim to h- the Persian- then I'd like to take him in."

"Of course, I'll look into that as well." He kept his smile in place, all the while wondering if he should tell Leo about this. If Delia knew that Giovanni lived less then a mile away from this spot, considering her manner now, the poor woman would go into hysterics. But then again, how Leo handled the situation was up to Leo. The man was forty-three, and as he constantly told Samuel when the scientist started slipping into a patronizing manner, he was an adult and had been one longer than most.

Oh yes, he'd definitely be making that call.

X

"No!" Giovanni snatched Persian by the scruff of his neck, saving the last ketchup bottle in his house from his crazed feline Pokemon. "What in God's name has gotten into you?"

"Merooow!" Persian howled. The creature's claws were stained with red, but not the red of blood. Every bottle of any red substance -up to an including paint- had been knocked over, broken into, sniffed, and only a select few had been eaten. It had started at two in the morning when Persian had waddled home and began rummaging through the lower cabinets. To get some sleep Giovanni had summoned his Nidoking to sit on the crazed Persian, ascribing the whole episode to cat-nip exposure and patiently waited out the fit by stuffing ear plugs in his ears and going back to bed.

He'd gotten all of two hours of sleep when a clawed hand had poked him and he'd woken almost face-to-face with a slashed up purple snout.

It was the second time he'd woken up and screamed in his life. After regaining his composure and remembering that this was _his_ Nidoking - not some Rocket's out to kill him- Leo put the gun back on his belt. He'd listened to the few pathetic whines and rumbles of his battered Pokemon; however, it was a crash from the kitchen that told him exactly what was going on.

So it was now six in the bloody morning, and red substances were literally running along the walls, dripping from shattered bottles and cans and…

It could have been a scene out of a bad horror movie, with the walls dripping red, but it wasn't that bad. Well, not all throughout the house anyways. Anyways, speaking of red, he was nearly seeing it, and the idea of wrapping his hands around Persian's neck and squeezing were very, _very_ pleasing.

"I want an answer, or I swear I'll lock us both in the damned bathroom and give you a nice long bath."

Persian's eyes went wide, fur poofed out, before Persian decided to favor him with a look of absolute terror.

"Come along, old friend." Giovanni began to carry the screaming howling Persian to the bathroom. "You're covered in red, and if it's not washed off your fur will stain…"

"Merrrow…" Persian screamed for Nidoking to save him, Nidoking just rubbed the cuts on his snout and looked away.

"He's not in the forgiving mood at the moment." Giovanni smirked. "But then again, he was trained by me. Like trainer, like Pokemon, if you believe Samuel."

"Mer…" Persian's ears drooped and the tail curled up in a ball, even at that show of pathetic cuteness Nidoking studied one of the red spots.

The second that Giovanni got to the bathroom door, Persian's eyes lit up and he then spread into Staryu position over the frame.

"Damn it, Persian, act mature for once and just take the damned bath; it's not like you're going to be scrubbing the walls!"

"Merow!" Persian sank his claws into the doorframe.

" _RIIING"_

"Nidoking, do something about…"

"Nido?"

"Break it, I don't care!"

Tromping past his annoyed trainer, Nidoking opened the door to Leo's office and picked up the screaming curved thing in his paw. Recalling sitting at a younger Leo's feet when he was a Nidoran and Nidorino, he remembered seeing his trainer put the thing to his ear. Nidoking decided to try it. Leo stared through the office door, forgetting to even try to shove Persian into the bathroom. Startled by the lack of being pushed, Persian lifted his head and looked into the office. Persian and ex-rocket stared in total shock as Nidoking put the phone to his ear (upside down) a deep rumble coming from his throat. There was a long pause, Nidoking winced and put the phone on the desk and then walked to his shocked trainer.

"Nidokiing…"

Giovanni blinked at the poison-type. In effort to make his meaning clearer, Nidoking pointed to the office then to his trainer.

"It's for me?"

The purple horned monster nodded, than looked at Persian, a curling grin appearing on his huge snout. Knowing that look, Giovanni chuckled.

"Since he won't take a bath you may Ice Beam him clean, just remember to leave him with some fur this time."

Nidoking cricked his knuckles and leered down at Persian. Persian was trying his best to unhook his claws, but they'd sunk in too deep. He made a pained noise in his throat and began to scream for help.

"Enjoy the consequences of your actions, Persian." Leo smirked, and pointedly ignored the flash of blue light and the pained "MEROW!" that came from the hall. Snatching up the phone, Leo put the thing to his ear -the right way- and sank down into his chair. Half a rotation later, he was in line to put his feet on the desk, which he did, and curled into the leather chair.

"Leonardo?"

"Samuel, why so formal? I understand the hour is a foul one but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to demand you to act like one of the Politoads that used to lap at my boots at every opportunity."

"Something's come up."

Oak's curt -he'd go so far as to call it cold- tone telling him that this was indeed dangerous made him grip his gun that hung on his belt. It was a neurotic habit that came from having to rely on the weapon to keep his life. In less then a heartbeat, gone was the smile and all the ease that he had garnered. Ice replaced his blood, and his face that had a hint of a smile and a shred of warmth, lost both. It was smothered under the need to survive. And self-preservation, being the monster that it was, would not allow the weakness of human compassion or emotion to interfere.

"Report."

Old words, an old tone; he'd spoken to Rockets in that tone every day for the last twenty some years.

"Do you know a…"

"Oak, the line's going to get choppy for a second, just wait."

There was a loud screech, but the anti-bug block was now in place. At least now, he wouldn't have the police mucking around in this for a little while, anyways.

"What was that?"

"To make sure we have some privacy, just keep going."

"Do you know a Delia Ketchum?"

"No, but I take it she knows of me?"

"She knows you're alive, and Ash didn't tell her. She saw your Persian and put it all together. She claims to have known you and she's terrified."

Mentally Giovanni was pawing though the lists of names, while his hands were opening a drawer and physically pulling out a folder with the names of all those who had worked in The Rockets with a last name staring with "K".

"Spell it."

Oak did so, and Giovanni went through the listings twice. He put it back after finding nothing, and then opened another drawer with the listing of every private eye and police officer that had been trained and sent to Kanto in the last fifty years. Again he went through the names, and didn't come up with a match.

"Leo…"

"Oak, be silent for a moment." Giovanni pulled out a laptop from the bottom of his file drawer. He winced at the sight of its state, covering in dust; he hadn't used it in months, so perhaps that was to be expected. He plugged it in, than went to a link under his "Favorite" column. "Tell me about Ms. Ketchum, everything you know."

"You won't hurt her?"

"Not unless she makes a hostile move towards me. At worst, I will talk to her and bribe her to keep her silence. So you may rest assured, I won't hurt your girlfriend."

Samuel sputtered and Giovanni felt a smile curl on his lips even though there was no reason to smile at the moment.

_I won't hurt her, but if it comes down to it, you have to remember that accidents do happen... and to keep you and myself safe I will arrange for an accident… I'll have to be quiet about it, careful, with all the law practically breathing down my neck I won't be able to make any mistakes._

He did not tell Samuel that. He did not have the heart to do so, or perhaps he had a little too much heart, as a truly heartless and sadistic man would have gleefully informed Samuel of every plan in full detail.

"What kind of details?"

"Full name, when she moved to Pallet, any family history, her son's date and year of birth... information of that type will be useful."

"How are you going to use it?"

"Just a little background check." Leo's smile widened as he opened and began to hack into the official records of the Kanto and Johto region. "She hasn't been to Hoenn has she?"

"No… She was born in Viridian and moved to Pallet when she turned eighteen."

Giovanni winced, recalled how when he had been eighteen he had…

He shelved that memory; put that sliver of information in the search column to narrow his options somewhat.

"Keep going, and try to remember Samuel, romantic gushing won't help me any."

"Leo!" The professor was probably turning an interesting shade of crimson at the moment. Giovanni chuckled, and wished for once he had one of those visual phones. "Well… I wager you've _never_ had anyone to romantically "gush" about, as you so crudely term it."

"You might lose that wager my friend," Leo whispered, stroking the black-banded ring while staring at the crimson "R" in the rings black heart.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch that…"

"It's nothing, just telling Persian to stop playing with the cord. Speaking of Persian, he has been acting very particular since last night and I wanted to ask if you'd give him a check up."

"Of course, bring him by tomorrow, or this afternoon if you want. It's the slow season for me. The League hasn't issued a formal date of the next tournament and they won't for another three months or so. It's a time for trainers to go home, rest with their families and get fired up for the next League."

Giovanni nodded. "It's about this time the Gym Leaders close their gyms and do much the same. Well, that and attend the various conferences and briefings that are mandatory if we want to keep our Gyms. Being bogged down with all that dreaded responsibility of beating up a youngster's Pokemon normally turns meetings into impromptu parties."

"Is this a glimpse into the secret lives of Gym Leaders?" Samuel chuckled. "I cannot imagine you attending something like a Gym Leader party."

"All I normally do or rather _did_ , was strike up a game of chess with Blaine," Giovanni snorted. "I endured that old man's voice to keep the younger ones from ganging up on me demanding an autograph or attention. Although the attentions of the Cerulean Sisters…"

" _LEO_! The oldest is twenty-two years old!" Samuel screamed and Giovanni laughed.

"Grow up, Samuel. They are far too young for me to consider them in that light." Giovanni smirked. "Once you got past their grating accents and flighty nature, they really weren't bad conversationalists... although they were a bit obsessive about water conservation projects."

"Like you weren't wrapped up in preserving some of the mountainous regions outside of Viridian? I've told you they influence us on a very low subconscious level. Our  
interests and influences change to match their needs even as they change to match our personali-"

"Samuel…" Giovanni growled, which was enough to make the man drop his patronizing tone. "Just tell me what you know; I'll be by around three-ish to bring Persian in for his check up."

"Alright." Samuel began to list small facts while Leo steadily put them in. The search was narrowing more and more with each tidbit, about halfway through, Samuel fell silent. "Leo, how are you doing this?"

"With a computer and keyboard, why?" Giovanni grumbled, hoping Samuel wouldn't push it.

"That's _not_ what I mean Leo; you can't use this information in a polygon search engine." Samuel snapped. "Not unless…"

"I have an updated version." Giovanni snapped, a hint of fire coloring his tone. "There are things you can do with an updated Polygon2 connection that you could not even dream of trying on the Polygon1 systems."

"Like access things that should be just for the government's use?" Samuel growled.

"I have connections," Giovanni said coolly. "I always have connections."

"How many of those are legal?"

Giovanni stared at the computer screen: it was the official web site for a legal organization, that was about as legal as legal could get for you.

"All of them, and I might point out that I am using my Internet from a legal source. I am not stealing from someone else's service. I even pay my bills. You might even go so far as to say I'm more legal now then I've ever been."

There was a long pause, than there came a choked "Why don't I believe that?" in response.

"Sam…" - Leo inserted a mock whine into his voice - "why can't you just trust me?"

"Says the man who's been charged for fraud, valuable theft, and who is currently supposed to be deceased… I don't think they even have a name for that one yet."

"They do, but the name eludes me at the moment. You forgot identity theft, Pokemon theft, murder in the third, second, and first degree, embezzlement, arson, pick-pocketing, soliciting, breaking and entering, man slaughter, evading of law enforcement, resisting arrest, physical assault, verbal harassment, avoiding a court hearing, and jay walking…"

"Jay walking?" Samuel was snickering now. Obviously, he did not believe that Giovanni had done all of those things.

"Some junior officer in-training was feeling a little over zealous that day." Leonardo stroked his tie, shifted it a bit, and then added in a carefully planned monotone: "I have yet to get a speeding or parking ticket, however."

On the other end of the line, there was the sound of laughter, Samuel still did not believe him, - he'd never believe until he saw proof of the crimes. That was Samuel for you, never believing until he'd personally seen it for himself. Giovanni looked to the hall to watch Nidoking smack the Persian, now mostly frozen in a block of ice. The normal-type whimpered as the red stains were washed out of his fur as the ice was being melted and smashed. The second he was free, Persian would no doubt run up to him and curl up on his lap in a desperate attempt to get warm. Hopefully, Leo would be off the phone with Samuel when that happened. …Conversations that ended in screams and howling Persian cries tended to worry Samuel for some reason.


	5. Ketchup run

Two Paths to One End

Chapter 5

" Ketchup Run"

_The argument was staged, planned, that knowledge still did not take the bite out of their words, that knowledge still did not ease the pain and uncertainty that prayed on them both later on in the darkest hours of the night. Knowing still did not make their separation easier, or take back the fact that these words would be the last they ever spoke to each other._

" _You are a soulless bastard Satoshi!"_

" _Madam..." His black eyes were mere slits. "Believe what you will, but at least I did not whore myself to my families rivals…"_

_A hand snapped through the air, smashed into a square jaw and the man staggered back, a thin trickle of blood seeped down the shallow cut that now ran down his cheek. She hesitated, pain at causing him pain flashed in her eyes. For one second he lifted a hand, gingerly felt at the cut and secure that none could see his expression because of her hand he smiled and only she was close enough to see him mouth in Italian that he'd suffered worse and was fine._

_If any saw the light in her eyes, the sparkle they mistook joy and humor for a rush of barely suppressed tears._

" _I was loyal, you weren't, going to that… that…"_

_She sputtered, in the throes of true rage or fake she was so gentle she could not even say the words. If he seemed to swell with rage then let the fools who didn't know him accuse him of anger, of temper, she knew he was fighting down laughter at her fumbling, at her ineptitude in cursing him out._

" _Gentleman's parlor?" He supplied, sarcasm laced his tone. "Well if I must take my entertainments from other women then it obviously means that you are incapable of satiating my appetite and that failure is yours not mine."_

_She winced, that accusation had cut deep. So it had been a fear of hers -and he in his mastery of reading people had hit the mark the one time he hadn't meant to- damn… Could he have taken those words back or dared show remorse he would have. He dared not, not for his sake, bur for hers. Embroiled in so much politics and debt in the world of the elite her family had more or less sold her off to the richest man's son upon her birth. She was to marry another man, she had defied them and fallen for one of the more controversial men in the highest elite circles. Their love had lasted, it was there, he knew that and so did she but… she was bound and the monster she was bound to…_

_He'd rather lose her then see her under any other man, she would have rather died then be with that sadist, so the fight and the scene and her "death" were all planed. He would grant her her freedom and he would keep a weather eye over her and supply all that she needed. It was a hard but overall better deal for them, a better deal for her._

_It did not make it any less painful though, and their last words… they would be curses, and those curses would echo in his mind until the day he died._

X

Frowning Samuel stared at the papers long and hard, stared at the records on Persian that the Professor would give to Delia later that afternoon, then at the notes Leo had provided on Delia Ketchum. His white lab coat flapped around him as he stood and once more paced behind his desk. Leo said nothing, was perched on one of the stools in the miniature lecture hall where Samuel in once had lectured a multitude of lab assistants and aspiring children. It was empty, and silent, save the drawing of breath from the room's two occupants and the memories that resided and were whispering through both men's minds.

"You're lying." Oak whispered at last. "You forged this and you are lying."

"No, I am not." Leo gritted his teeth; he'd been accused of being a liar before, had lied almost all of his adult life, but to hear it from Samuel… It actually hurt to hear that from Samuel. "Have I ever lied to you, ever?"

"Over twenty years Leonardo." Oak hissed.

"Don't let infatuation make you the fool Samuel." Leo hissed. "And when I have lied to you have I always had a good reason to do so? Have I ever lied for no reason or no purpose? What point would my lying now have? There are no benefits for me, and if there is no profit then do I pursue?"

Samuel had to shake his head. He knew the mind of Giovanni, was one of the few privileged to get close enough to put the pieces together. Samuel was one of the few who could grasp the mix of cold calculation and slivers of strangely placed compassion that had endured despite Giovanni's years of leading the Rockets. He was the only one who could understand; who was not so terrified or disgusted by the man that understanding was shaded by hatred or fear.

"Could you have made a mistake?"

"No."

That was blunt enough…

"You can see the process for yourself; I printed up every step so you could see. I…"

There was a knock on the door and Giovanni scowled, if it were that brat Tracy daring to disturb them yet _again_ he'd use the damn gun this time and Samuel's whining protests could go to bloody hell.

"Are you in here Professor?"

Even muffled by wood Giovanni knew that voice all too well.

"Is he here every day?" Leo growled.

"When he thinks he can get away with it," Samuel smiled. He doted on Ash like the boy was his own son, coddled Tracy and Ash like they were his family, and the practice disgusted Giovanni. But then the Rocket had to admit he was not one who liked families, too much bad blood between him and Raphael.

"Come in Ash, but be careful, Giovanni's here too and he's feeling rather cross."

Samuel snatched the papers and pulled open the top drawer on his desk. Even before the boy had pulled open the door the papers were gone and the drawer closed with a quiet little click.

"Heh, he looks like a student of yours." Ash chuckled as he entered. Like always he wore a white shirt and dark shorts. The yellow rat that rested on the boy's shoulder "pika"ed in agreement and offered him a paw in greeting.

"Well it goes to show that he was."

Ash managed a "no way!" after a few moments and Pikachu kept offering his paw in greeting, Giovanni ignored them both.

"What was he like?"

Samuel grinned, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

"Oh he used to write out "dominate the world" plans and make those types of presentations when he was little. He also used to doodle little "R"s on all his papers."

"How old are you Sam? I've forgotten at the moment." Giovanni growled, trying not to think back on his school days. While they hadn't been as Sam was portraying them Giovanni hadn't exactly enjoyed being a child. But then adulthood wasn't all that pleasant either.

"Really?" Ash seemed to be actively ignoring the ex-Rocket and Leo was happily returning the favor. Only Samuel and the Rat seemed to have a problem with their behavior. Pikachu "chu"ed at him seeing "pika"s weren't working, and Samuel tried to get Ash to talk to him.

"Samuel, play peacemaker some other day." Leo grumbled. His eyes fixed on the childish Ash while his mind wondered what secrets the boy's mother hid so well for so many years.

"You know for a friend of the Professor's you aren't nice to the Professor."

"See Samuel, we are interacting, are you satisfied now?" Leo growled, his hands twitched as he imagined them going around the boy's throat and ending all that inane babble.

Sighing as much as a rat could Pikachu hoped from Ash's shoulder, then padded across the steel lab table. He stopped in front of Giovanni and reared up on his hind legs. They were almost nose to nose. The small yellow rat, with its lightning strike shaped tail, sunflower hued fur, long slips for ears, and the orange suit clad Rocket. After a courtesy sniff Pikachu cocked his head to the side and twitched his ears.

"Pika pi pi chu?"

Leo blinked at the rat, what the heck did it want with…

"Piii… Pika pi chu." The mouse pointed at him, but the digit was angled down.

"I think he wants to see your belt." Ash said slowly.

"Pi-ka!" The rat bobbed his head.

Frowning, a sight that had sent Rocket Grunts and no few executives running and screaming for their mommies, the ex-Rocket pulled off the six orbs that he kept strapped to his belt. The rat ran to each one, sniffed and then pointed to the only empty one and made an accusatory "chu!".

"My Persian, what do you want him for?"

"Pika pi pichu!"

"Hey, that reminds me… Your Persian totally freaked my Mom out, it almost scratched her and attacked Pikachu!"

"Perfect." Leo flicked his gaze over the boy. "While we are discussing matters I would like to know what your rat did to my Persian."

"Pikachu isn't a rat!"

"His specie is a rat." Leo hissed, he stood, pushed back the three legged stool and glared down at the brat from his formidable height. "If you're that ignorant only God knows how you've managed to make it as a trainer this long…"

"Hey, I got sixteenth in the League and…"

"When I went in," Leo growled. "I challenged the elite four."

"Probably because you had the Rockets cheat for you…"

"What did you say?" Giovanni's eyes blazed.

Samuel sighed, than rapped his desk sharply with a knuckle.

"Children, that's enough. Really Leo you should be ashamed sinking to having a yelling match with a thirteen year old."

"Fourteen, next month," Ash snapped with a hint of pride in his voice.

"And you Ash Ketchum should be ashamed at your lack of manners. I understand that you don't agree with a lot that Leo has done, but remember he is my friend and I ask you treat him with the same respect you treat me."

"But…"

"Pika!" With that as his cheer Pikachu jumped off the side of the table, ran between the isle that cut a table and chair less path through the room. There was a pleased if surprised "Merr" and both trainers turned to see a yellow blur pounce on the white Persian.

"Pikachu cha!" Scampering on the larger normal type's back Pikachu seemed ecstatic to see the feline. Persian purred deep in his throat, then shook himself, sending his yellow attachment tumbling to the floor. "Pika pi!"

"Purrr…"

"Well they're getting along well." Samuel grinned, giving both trainers a pleased look. "You know research says that how a trainer's primary Pokemon interacts with another trainer's prime Pokemon is a strong hint to how the trainers themselves will get on."

Pikachu continued to dance around Persian and exercise his boundless energy while the more sedate and steady Persian watched with a humored curl to his whiskers. Eventually the two padded off, and went in the general direction of the kitchen.

"I've said it before, I'll say it again. Professor Samuel Oak, you will _never_ sell off to me this purely mystical theory that Pokemon are a reflection of their trainers and that trainers become an extension of their Pokemon."

There came a crash from the kitchen.

"Not another Rocket attack!" Ash sprung to his feet and charged out of the room.

"Even as he says it does he realize the Rockets are all but dead?" Leo grumbled.

Samuel didn't bother to respond, he was too concerned with the contents of his precious kitchen to hear another word. Alone in the classroom, Leo stared out the window at the reserve, as he had so many times befo-

"Leonardo Giovanni, your Persian is breaking all the bottles in my refrigerator!" Samuel screamed. "No… don't you… not the Poke-berry jam!"

There was another crash.

"Pikachu, stop, what's gotten into you?!"

"Leo, do something about your Per- No give that back…"

"MEROW! FFT!"

Leo knew he'd be scrubbing the floors after Persian was done wrecking the kitchen. He, however, wasn't going to get cut to ribbons trying to stop his ketchup addicted normal type.

"After them, they're getting away!"

Leo turned and Persian ran by with a multitude of ketchup packets stuffed in his mouth, Pikachu sported a bottle in his fore paws while running on his hind, charged past the door. Less then a second later the red speckled Professor and young trainer went after them.

"Really Samuel, at your age you should know better not to chase Pokemon around and fight them over maters of ketchup." Leo scolded, lucky for him the Poke-expert was too busy chasing after the two "thieves" to hear.


	6. Mindset of Flight

Two paths to one end

Chapter 6

Mindset of flight 

_He'd never been weak before, or if he had been I'd never been privileged to see it. Pain, fear, the acidic oily reek filled my nostrils and turned my stomach as I realized that his fear was a dubious pleasure at best. I wanted to scream as it wore on and he whimpered in pain, I wanted to scream my defiance and rush forward to protect him as he had protected me so many times before._

_How many times had he ran forward to bodily shield me from harm, and at my protesting cry he'd say "I'm fine" even when he wasn't?_

_How many times had he stepped down, lost face, pride, honor, in order to spare me pain, and at my insistence that I was fine he would reply "it's not worth it"?_

_I've lost count._

_I've also lost count of the slander, the lies that they tell._

_He is cold, heartless, manipulating, self-serving…_

_That's all I hear, it's all they say, his enemies and allies alike say such things and even the thought of that makes me want to shriek and bare claw and fang against them._

_He isn't cold! I've warmed my winter or tile cooled feet against his flank a hundred times before and listened and watched with glee as he cried out and squirmed away with an angry cry. And even if he rolled away and took the blanket to curl up he wouldn't protest me joining him after his grouchiness had passed._

_I've spent days, almost my lifetime worth of nights, laying on his chest, listening to that familiar "thump thump" of his heart._

_As for manipulation, we all are manipulators under it all. I get what I want with a little happy noise and by widening my eyes; he gets what he wants with a smile and talking. Really it's no all that different from what I do. He only he shows his claws a little more often and is a good hunter and takes no shame over the matter._

_As for self-serving, I can remember the times when we slept together in those places filled with pink fluff balls and white clad she-humans and my stomach would growl. He would crack open a dark eye and all the while grumbling and growling like a Growlithe get to his feet and fumble through his packs. He would say to my question that he suddenly realized he was hungry, then open a can of magikarp slivers and after taking one –just one out of ten or sometimes even twenty!- for himself leave the rest for me._

_That's how I know he wasn't hungry, he lied a tiny bit, he wasn't hungry but heard I was so he brought me food and took a tiny bit so I wouldn't feel bad for taking from one of his hunts._

_He always thinks of me like that, even when he's all Growlithe snippy and grumbly he thinks of me._

_And the one time he needed me, the one time he couldn't do what needed doing I couldn't do anything either. That cold one, the real heartless one that whelped the one I like… his fist gleamed like steel as it smashed into me. I lay, a tangle of limbs and fur, and I hurt even as I smell fear and pain. I want to get up and fight, I really want to, but breathing hurts._

_"Damn you, fight me!"_

_"No."_

_Steel, a knife caught the light and glinted. Blade and the owner of the blade laugh at me even as the heartless one calls us weak._

_Somewhere I find the strength to get on my paws. Hate and anger boil in my blood, and if I had been a creature of fire flame would have come to me. A vile taste fills my mouth and I growl, almost coke on the black liquid._

_Poison falls from my fangs even as I can feel it slide from small slits on my paws and slick my claws. The poison of their hate has become mine, and with poison slicked fang and claw I strike._

X

After scrubbing the walls and bathing Persian, Giovanni, ex-rocket and criminal mastermind lounged in one of Samuel's patio chair hoping he would dry out. Hoping that the drying out would be soon, as he was banned from the house or even touching the chess board until he no longer dripped. He hated being wet; it barred him from doing what he liked. Persian hated it too, but for different reasons. Sniffing his shoulder the Persian looked up at him, those crystal eyes glittering with hostility.

"Merr…"

"If you hadn't fought we _both_ wouldn't be drenched." Leo snapped.

"Merow rowr…"

"Deal with the smell Persian, it won't kill you."

Persian sniffed the air in his direction and made a gagging noise.

"Vengeful beast."

"Hissss!"

"If you don't want to be my new welcome mat then I highly recommend being silent."

"Merow rawo merow!"

"I may be getting old but I still am strong enough to take you down flea bag."

"Hiss!" Persian arched his water thinned tail and then turned on his trainer, a playful glint in his crystal eyes. Giovanni seemed to flow out of the chair, braced himself for the mock pouncing and was going to give as good as he got.

Both trainer and Pokemon froze at the loud crash that came from inside the research facility which served as the home of the man both respected.

"No, you're supposed to stay in the tub Pikachu!"

"Pika pika pikaaaa!"

"Ash Katchem, if you're going to run around sopping wet then you and your Pikachu should do so outside."

"Yes Professor Oak."

"I remember having to be spoken to in that tone." Leo smirked.

Persian nodded, and then flicked an ear in inquiry.

Leonardo just took his seat again and Persian sighed, he wanted to have a little fun, after all they were at the Professor's and that was the point of coming to the Professor's wasn't it?

"Piii-ka cha!" Happy, a yellow sopping wet blur dashed from the bathroom and joined them outside. It shook itself out then with a chirpy noise pounced on Persian. Happy to at least be with someone who wasn't glum Persian tolerated the light attack and then ducked down low and rolled. The rodent squeaked then found itself resting in Persian's paws.

" Chu…? Cha!"

One second resting in the paws, another second easily thrown up into the air and caught again. Pikachu found the game entertaining enough and squealed with delight, as it was tossed up and down like an oversized Meowth-nip toy. From his seat Giovanni watched the play with a humored glint in his black eyes, then seeing that Persian wasn't going to be in the brunt of a thunder attack lowered his guard enough to close his eyes and let the chair take his full weight.

"Pikachu where'd ya…"

There was the sound of a door opening, but Persian was focused on keeping the mouse from falling on its head –Pikachu juggling was not as easy as he thought it would be!- so he didn't look up at the human as it's words tapered off into a strangled note.

"Leave them alone Mr. Katchum. We may never like each other, but that should not so your Pikachu and my Persian from interacting."

"He's not gunna bite or scratch Pikachu or something?"

"No, he only attacks on my command."

"Alright then… if they're having fun then I guess it's OK…"

As if to agree Pikachu let out a squeal of glee as Persian put a slight spin in his paws and caused the mouse to summersault while in the air.

X

Oak watched Ash and Pikachu leave. Both trainer and pokemon were exhausted and their equilibrium was somewhat compensated by Persian's little game. Samuel couldn't blame them too much. After watching the yellow mouse spin and rise and fall he had begun to feel dizzy and Giovanni had coolly excused himself from Ash’s company and come back inside to dry on the linoleum floor.

"Pika chuuu!"

Waving a paw, eyes a little glazed, Pikachu called out goodbye from his trainer's arms while Persian meowed his own more sedate farewell.

"I think they are going to miss each other." Samuel gave Giovanni a long look and the man shrugged.

"That is their concern."

"You aren't warming to Ash are you?" Samuel teased.

"Hardly, he is rash, grating, and utterly young. His sole parent is dangerous, an unknown. Having anything save caution around either of them would be dangerous."

"You are paranoid."

"Perhaps I am wise; after all I am still alive."

"I am too, and I never had to watch my back my whole life." Oak countered and to his words Giovanni laughed, it was more bitter than mirth.

"Only because I spent all of my youth -and a health span of my adulthood- doing that watching for you. There were times I nearly blew my cover because the urge shake some damned sense into you was so strong."

Samuel grumbled at that and Leonardo grinned, smug in his victory he looked much like a Persian stealing the cream… or perhaps stealing the ketchup would be a better analogy.

"You're slipping a bit Leo. Or am I talking to Giovanni at the moment?"

Rebuked, Leo lost his laughter and almost scowled, but then he froze and considered… The anger drained from his face and he sighed.

"Habit, sorry."

"Fix it on a permanent basis and we won't have to keep going through this."

Leo grunted, and Persian let out a gusty sigh. At that oddity the ex-Rocket speared his Persian with a sharp look.

"If things go on, danger or no, I may be forced to make times to see this Ash Katchum."

Samuel raised an eyebrow, was the ice blooded Leonardo actually warming to Ash?

"Why?"

"Because when he is denied something Persian gets surly and you don't want to be near a snippy poison type. Longevity and all that."

"Persian's a normal type." Samuel pointed out.

"A normal type who knows toxic is no less dangerous then a rabid NidoRino." Persian sighed once more then turned to his trainer with wide gleaming meowth-like eyes.

"Meow?"

"See what I mean?" Leo grumbled.

Not seeing Samuel scratched at his head and frowned, Persian's eyes widened a little more and he let out a little purr.

"He manipulates me, he gets me every damn time with the meowth-eyes and he knows it."

"Purrr?"

If a purr could have said "who me?" then Persian's did just that.

X

Samuel frowned as Giovanni used his computer to hack into the information data base that only the police and other legal information sources should have been able to break into. The click of keys being pressed down and released was the only sound in the library, and Samuel watched with his own eyes as Giovanni looked up and again failed to find anyone alive with the name Delia Katchum. No woman, in _any_ official countries record, had that name or had changed their name so that there could be a Delia Katchum.

Looking up for a Will Katchum also brought similar results.

In effect there was no Will or Delia Katchum, and there never had been one, ever.

Yet there was one name in the official records that did come up. For all the strangeness that this mystery had brought before them there was only one trace of something wrong. There was a record, a medical record of an Ash Katchum being born in Viridian. There was no recorded father, no recorded mother.

Feeling sick, yet unable to look away, Samuel read over Giovanni's shoulder and shuddered at the medical statement. "Tragic"

Giovanni scowled at the computer screen as he read the laconic report. The mother had been sick, delirious, blood covered, and going into labor when she had stumbled into the steps of the small facility. The child had been a miscarriage; the mother had died in attempting to give birth.

"There should have been a record of her name, some identification, even a physical description offered if nothing else. How _convenient_ that all relevant information was all left out, how juvenile."

Samuel felt anger stir in him and Leo sensing the hostility shifted a bit and looked up at the older man.

"Samuel, it's all written to play on the emotion of the honest. We are told a tragedy, told enough to make us feel guilty about reading this, yet not enough to learn anything. If that isn't a sign to you that this was forged then you obviously are going senile." Giovanni stared at the screen, his lips became little more than a line as he thought, his expression then curled up into one of his most bitter. "The style is juvenile, childish, but I must give the person credit for finding an effective cover story."

Samuel blushed and though he knew Leo was watching the screen he was certain that the ex-Rocket had easily read him like always.

"If I could get my hands on the official document, the originals, I could see if it information was deliberately excluded. That would imply a conspiracy, or at least an agreement between the doctor and the patient. If it wasn't then someone went through legal channels to get it deliberately altered. If it's the first, then that's all we need to know, the woman was running and she made it clean enough in my book for me to stop pursuing the matter, if it's the latter then I'll have to continue the investigation."

Samuel stared at nothing in particular. He wondered who the woman was that he thought he knew and what secrets the cheerful and helpful Delia Katchum kept from the world. Suddenly he felt numb, tired, and old. Samuel wanted nothing more than to lie down, to walk away, but doing either wouldn’t solve the problem. So he remained standing while Giovanni glared at the screen, as if willing it to talk. Slowly Giovanni realized his friend's state of mind and with a sigh turned and looked into Samuel's drawn face.

"I'm sorry Samuel, I really am. The breaking of trust hurts like hell, especially if it comes from someone you care about. My only recommendation is to hold judgment until we know why; she could have been fleeing a bad situation, or the re-emergence of her old self could very well cause problems for Pallet. Much like myself, actually. If I ever went public… could you imagine the damage it would have caused the police and public officials? Add onto the Rockets fanatical loyalty to me and the fact they are in a very bad situation." Leo chuckled. "This place could be swarming with Rockets all determined to save me, to reinsert me back into their order."

"You'll turn them down."

"Of course, after all I'd only be a figurehead if I returned. Not only that, but if any of them suspected me of betraying them they'd turn on me in a heartbeat. My situation which was precarious before would be a thousand times worse if I ever took so much as step back on my old ways. I knew that when I pulled the trigger."

Despite himself Samuel shuddered and Giovanni softened his tone.

"You have been betrayed before Samuel, what does experience tell you?"

"That she has a reason." Samuel said firmly.

"We all have good reasons Samuel, if only to ourselves." Leo smirked, and the mirth left him, though his lips still did not relax into their customary frown lines. "I don't want you dragged into this Sam, the danger lies only on me, not on you. Leave it in my hands and don't concern yourself with what occurs."

"I can't do that Leo, this is personal."

"All matters could be personal, but is it worth it Samuel? You aren't emotionally equipped to handle this sort of thing."

"And you are?"

"I am suited to it, it's in my blood." Leo snapped.

"When will you stop being Giovanni, Leonardo?" Samuel sighed; he walked wearily to his favorite chair and sank into it. Leo closed his eyes in thought, leaned back into the leather chair and turned to look at his old friend. The green light of the screen sketched the lines of Leo's face and gave them a surreal sheen, and it was a small wonder that he was feared if he looked that fierce whenever he made his plans.

"Maybe never, it's in my name, it's in my blood."

Thinking about the document Samuel smiled, seeing a glint of light, a speck of hope, and an answer. "Names can be changed."

"I gave up my fortune, my power, and my public identity." Leo cracked one eye open. "My name is all I have left."

"I should talk to her."

" _You_ , talk to _her_?" Leo snorted. "You don't know the basics of interrogation; you're too kind to draw out one honest answer. And you may think that scowl of yours is intimidating but…"

"Stop thinking like a Giovanni-" Samuel snapped. "-and you might actually see the answer." It was Leo's turn to be surprised, to fumble for a long moment and to wonder at what had just happened. "Stop thinking like a Rocket, like your father, think like a person and trust your emotions for once. If she's running, she's scared. She probably gave up everything, her name, her old life, to protect Ash."

"I cannot stop what I am my friend, I cannot stop my thought from going to patterns that you disagree with it…"

"Patterns _you_ disagree with, you did the exact same thing. Maybe it was later in your life, but you are doing the exact same thing Delia is doing."

"And that would be?”

“Running.”

To say Leo’s tone was a bit snide was an understatement, never mind the potential explosion Oak pressed his point.  One word, was all it took, and the ex-Rocket was both stiff and scowling, with something like murder promised in the cant of his eyes.

"Are you accusing me of _cowardice_ , Professor?"

"I'd accuse you of that if you stayed with the Rockets." Samuel said calmly, and it was his serenity that brought calm to Leo and made the ex-Rocket pause. "You were braver then I ever could be when you fought them back and basically committed a willing suicide of your old life. If she did the same then couldn't her reasons have been the same?"

Malice died, under some hopelessly tender, nameless, expression.

"You have too much hope Samuel, too much faith in people. She won't answer you."

"I know her, she will."

"You thought you knew her." Leo corrected. "And with what I've shown you, can you say you know her, even now?"

"As well as I know you Leo."

Leonardo laughed, and then turned back to his computer. He typed in a few words, shut down his hacking program and absently ran a scan to make sure no tracking software had installed itself into his computer while he had been busy.

"It was my hope that you knew me better, Professor Samuel Oak. Fine, talk to her, but I'm curious, how are you going to start the conversation? _Mrs. Katchum, I was browsing through the records of everyone that's been born for the last fifty years and I was wondering… I didn't see your name could you kindly explain why you aren't in any legal or illegal record except a small notation under a supposedly dead woman's miscarriage?_ There are a multitude of messy explanations that would need to be covered, one of them being how you got into those archives."

"Well… the nice thing about small towns is that there's a little rule we have. It's something that's almost foreign to you I'm afraid, it's called honesty between neighbors."

Leo made a strangled noise and his eyes went wide.

Samuel's steel hued eyes twinkled wickedly with mirth and his lips curled into a warm smile.

"She already has guessed Leo, there's no point in hiding from everyone in the world, and her son already knows."

"Are you out of your mind?"

Samuel only laughed. "It solves everything, she won't be worried anymore Leo. Especially if I swear to keep you confined to the grounds of my facility, it's the same promise I made to the police, or rather the same promise you made to the police yourself."

Leo grunted at that, waited to hear the rest.

"She won't have to fear for herself or for Ash. That will make her life easier. You could help her hide better if she needs too, since you're such the expert. Ash actually won't have to keep a secret from his mother, which will make his life easier."

"And how does all of this make _my_ life easier?"

"Well… you don't have to do all that scheming and coaching me in whatever exotic lies you have cooked up. Despite how much fun you have lying and making plots I know you hate having an accomplice, so you'll get to skip that part."

Leo smiled despite himself, pleased to see his older friend sounding a bit more like himself after the woman's betrayal. Even if Leo could never agree with the plan, even if he thought Samuel's recovery was taking the form of a gross show of optimism, it was good to see Sam acting like himself again.

"So, everyone wins." Samuel summed it up and despite his best efforts Leo could see no flaws in the plan as Samuel saw it.

Save one… little…. variable.  If Samuel was wrong in judging this Delia woman he would be handing both their destructions to the woman in a hand basket. But that was only if the woman had long enough to use that information in a malicious manner. Leo decided that he would be there, and he would judge as well. If she failed his test, well accidents happened. It would be tragic, sad, but Samuel would recover and Leo would have no regrets.

Somehow Leo dredged up a smile, and inserted some humor into his tone.

"So when will you be inviting her here for dinner to bring up the news?"

Samuel went red and began to sputter. "Here?"

"Really Sam, you act as if I was asking when you'd be proposing to the girl."

"What!" Samuel squeaked.

Giovanni chuckled and let his eyes close to mere slits.

"Samuel, think about this logically. She may want some sort of confirmation of your words, who better to tell her then me? If I tell her, with say a few police officers on hand to reinforce my words. She can ask anyone in the Pallet police department if she needs more confirmation then that. With every officer in Pallet itching to put steel into my heart she'll feel nice and safe. Even the evil Giovanni Rocket Boss is mortal, she knows that, and knowing that if she dials up a number and says my name will lead to my destruction will make whatever threat I pose to her wellbeing minimal and offer her some comfort."

"She isn't like that Leo; she wouldn't take comfort in that she could kill-"

"What monster is threatening when you hold a gun to its temple and can kill it by pulling the trigger?"

Samuel did not speak again, only looked at Leo with a pain and loss that the ex-Rocket missed, being busy with the computer and all.  Giovanni stared at the screen, it was better to look at something lifeless than to gaze at the man with thoughts of murder on his mind.

"Once she knows that she does not need to fear me the lives of those you care for can go back to normal. And in the end that's all that is needed."

"Leo, you don't regret what you did, do you?"

Honesty, Samuel valued it, liked it, for liking of him Leonardo would strive to at least try to embrace the alien concept, no matter the pain it cost.

"Some days, yes, I do. Some days I miss that I knew what was going on, even if I despised the world I lived in. I miss the familiarity. It was a comfort. Now, I don't have a foundation or a reason, I just survive." Leo stared at the screen, watched files and symbols blaze by with such speed he could not read them. "Someday I'd like to go back to living.  It’s all a matter of adjustment… of adaption… I suppose.  I just haven’t got myself grounded on the concept just yet…."

At Sam's pained noise -some platitude that tangled amongst the complexities of language and came out as a jumbled mess- Giovanni sighed.

“Don’t.”

Ignoring that order, something that had gotten so many killed, Samual set his hand on Leo’s shoulder. Offering what comfort he could.

“It’s all too little too late anyways, Sam, all of it.”  Reaching up, rubbing his forehead the ex-Rocket sighed. “Just…”

Words failed, but the touch, it’s offer, remained for a long time.


	7. How it must be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing, it is so /very/ not fun. The italicizes dialogue, and the parentheses under it, was a translation via a website, Italian to English. Hopefully it's a trustworthy one, but if not, well the English version is right there... I had to epically rehaul this chapter, though the content is the same, over 80% of the scenes are re-writes, edited, and the like.

Two Paths to One End

Chapter 7

How it must be

_He slouched, it was a rare stance for him to assume. Weak, lazy, his father would have killed him. Perhaps that's why he assumed it. Today was special; today was the day his father had died. And like any child given summer break a week early, he rejoiced. He was free, and indulging in every second if it._

_So he slouched._

_It was petty, his defiance._

_But it was exhilarating. A cheap thrill and he was dressed to match, cheap thrill, cheap old training clothes. He smiled, relished the lack of luxury, bodyguards, servile help. There was nothing of his old life and he loved it. He leaned against a concrete pillar, the footfalls, and the agitated talk, the chatter of business being handled "privately" on a cell phone, laughter, and grumbles rumbled above._

_Humanity in all its bestial glory loomed overhead, a thunderstorm sans lightning, and he stood underneath, looking up at the concrete walkway and all its pedestrians with something like awe._

_Something of the wordless, word filled grumble was unsettling. Perhaps he should leave, leave this place. Leave the shadows to go up. To let the escalator take him up so he could better see, but… perhaps he would just listen. He had yet to make up his mind, about whether to exchange courage for foolhardiness._

_"Hey, that's my spot!"_

_He turned, stared at the girl who dared approach him now that he was not himself. Baggy jeans obscured what lay below the waist, while a clingy black top revealed a bit "much" about the attributes above the belt. Honestly, the color choice, the territorialism, she could have been a Rocket grunt._

_Save that no sane Rocket, grunt, executive, or commander, would have dared give him mouth._

_"Your spot?" He murmured. His black eyes met her brown squarely. "I don't see your name here."_

_Much to his surprise she laughed. "You sound like you're going to fight me for it."_

_Giovanni snorted, unclenched his fists and crossed his arms before him._

_"Professionalism perhaps."_

_"You, professional?" She cocked her head to the side, considered the idea, him, and found the whole of it rather funny if her snicker meant anything. Ignoring the insubordin- the… kid... acting as one, he went back to watching.  Since she was here, he watched her, the world, and neither impressed him much. Her brown was long and untamed, it spilled past her shoulders, sunlight from beyond the glass wall was a fickle thing as ever.  Picking out the red highlights of her hair and it deepened the shadows he hid in. "Aren't you a little young?"_

_"Don't underestimate me."_

_"Definitely young, young and cocky." She smiled at him. Did she ever not smile?_

_"I'm eighteen."_

_She only laughed._

_Her laughter hung between them, fell into the gloomy silence, and she offered her hand. He stared at her, at the offering. He was not "the boss" here, not "Leonardo Giovanni, heir the Giovanni name and fortune", he was just a boy. A boy in blue jeans and an oversized rumpled orange shirt. He smiled, despite the fact she'd insulted him, annoyed him. It was a relief to just be a "no one", to be ignored, overlooked._

_"You are too young, especially if your age means something to you."_

_"Believe what you like." He smirked, not quite buying her strange philosophy._

_"I'll do that."_

_X_

_"So, do you come here often?"_

_He sipped on the soda he'd bought from the vending machine, and she did the same. The can was a glaring pink, the words "fruit punch" nearly florescent; still this was part of the world, a part of the world he'd never seen. He'd never even bothered with the soda machine, it hummed and clanked when he'd pressed the button after depositing some of his money within. It was… well… noisy, and as a drink he found that he favored water, or wine. Soda was just too sweet, too artificial, for his palate. Not that that was a real problem for the girl, who was drinking the stuff like water. He kept his face expressionless and took another sip, when Guena was going to the machine to buy another one and indulged in expression.  Irritation, scorn, an eye roll perhaps, a pouring of some of his “drink” into the nearest potted plant surely._

_She came back, never knowing._

_They hadn't left the pillars with its nest of shadows with its side walls of stone and it's partial wall that was part door part window and was streaming golden light. She liked this place, with its partially hidden soda machine, one because there was a machine and two because there was her favorite soda -Which she'd dragooned him into sampling- and three because of the contrast. She thought it was pretty, pleasant, and the area tended to be quiet._

_To such simplistic reasoning he smiled, and hid the gesture by taking another drink.  Though the can was empty he was good enough at fakery to fool her._

_And.. perhaps it was simply the satisfaction in a scam well done, or something more, but he he'd found her company… pleasant,  So he endured the syrupy concoction when she pressed her catch upon him, and listened with half an ear as she bantered, fetched yet_ another _one and returned. She seemed to be waiting for a response; he cycled through her banter, and realized his flaw.  Considered it.  Then considered candor, it was quite the oddity, but he’d indulge, more for humoring the girl than anything else. One mocking toast of honor in her direction later, for what she’d never understand, and then he responded._

_"I come when my schedule allows."_

_Guena laughed, and while he didn't know why she laughed he found his own honesty amusing enough that he allowed himself the barest of chuckles._

_"Alright, Mr. Professional No-name, besides hogging my spot what_ else _do you do when you're here?"_

_"Well…" He shifted a bit, it must be the sugar of the drink, he told himself.  Not nerves, he wasn’t scared of anything.  He’d blame biology, after all wasn’t he still young enough for sugar to steal the edge of his control?  He’d look it up, or maybe call Samuel and ask.  "Nothing much, it's not as if there is much to do-"_

_"Not much to do!" Guena rolled her eyes. And the look she pinned on him… He cringed back from the pity in her eyes._

_"Don't… don't ever look at me like that!" He growled. "I'm not some upstart trainer with a poisoned Caterpie or something trying to get into the League, alright!"_

_"You're a Pokémon trainer?"_

_He let his eyes close to mere slits._

_"Do you have a problem with that?"_

_She shook her head._

_Her "of course not" rang false to his ears, but Giovanni did not call the girl out on it._

X

  
(edit below this point)

"With your hands-" Giovanni explained, leaning against the counter as he walked Samuel through the mechanics of making something 'not tofu' as he termed it. Living off a steady diet of stovetop romin, tofu (scarcely flavored, more bland sludge than actually edible), and frozen dinners, Professor Samuel Oak was learning how to harness the wondrous capabilities of his stove. Not much of a chief in what would be considered "normal meals" his tutor excelled in the complex and tantalizing dishes of his ancestor's homeland. "-you mix the salad up with your hands."

Samuel looked up at the younger man; as usual those black eyes were guarded.  Something of their stillness warned of some internal distance, and though not actually closed per se the windows of Leo’s soul were surly shuttered.

"Do you know where they've been?"  Said apendages were shaken for emphasis.

Leo nearly smiled, almost, but that distance ruled him, and the gesture died before completion.

"There is a miraculous thing called a _sink,_ as well as another wonder called _soap_ and _running water_."

"If you were this charming as "the Boss" it was a wonder more people weren't trying to shoot you."

Leonardo chuckled, crossed his arms over his chest. He looked as if he was going to make some comeback but frowned and sniffed at the air.

Samuel hopped away from the stove, stared in horror at the black smoke that was wafting out.

"The lasagna!"

"Per l'amore dell'uomo del dio, vi ho detto di regolare il temporizzatore maledetto!"

("For the love of God man, I told you to set the damned timer!")

"I did and it…"

There was a loud cheerful ring as the Eggsecute timer gleefully told them that forty minutes had passed.

"Twenty minutes, not a half hour,” Small mercies Leo hadn’t seen the actually time, he’d of been more furious, “the bread is supposed to go in for twenty minutes!"

Samuel just looked on helplessly and Giovanni growled and pushed him aside and after putting on some oversized oven gloves pulled out the crunchy looking mess of red, yellow… and black from the oven.  A train of something long, black, and flaky followed but was not set down beside it’s equally (if differently) ruined part of the meal.

“Sam.”

There was no inflection to the man’s voice; it couldn’t even be called a question.  Ignoring the small chill running down his neck, Samuel managed an oh-so-polite.

“Yes Leo?”

“You… put…”  A deep breathe, a soft snarl, then the man continued. “When did the already charred lasagna magically make its trip back into the oven to join the garlic bread in slow incineration?”

“I thought… well you said you needed to cook it…”

“I said it _might_ be salvageable if I had some change to _work on it_ before your guests arrived.”

“But… working on food _is_ cooking, isn’t’ it?”

“No, it involved knife work, ripping, tearing, stress re-  I mean _excising_ the worst of it.”

Silence, then a shrill whiny from the microwave and a peculiar sputtering snap made both men hop.  Then Samuel remembered andwas racing about Leo.  A quick unplug saved them from a fire, but the green beans in their can were obviously a lost cause if the black behind the glass door was any indicator.

For a long long moment Leo watched, then oh so carefully pealed off his gloves.

"That's it, I've aided you as far as my patience will allow. You are on your own."

"Satoshi!" Samuel protested. "Don't you dare abandon me to this mess!"

Leo growled, then threw the mitts made of Arcanine fur at Samuel.

"Good luck Sam, hopefully you won't kill them all with your attempts at cooking.  If you do, call me, I’ll dispose of the bodies."

"Get back here Leonardo Satoshi Giovanni! You know I can't cook!"

Leo just kept going, the heavy slam of the back door told a surer tale of the man’s temper, and Samual was half a mind to worry if Leo was going to just go home.  For a minute he wanted to be shocked, that Leo had abandoned him, but the man had never been tolerant of failure, ever. In a way his absence was probably better than his presence.

Before Samuel could take any comfort in any of his thoughts, or even follow them to some conclusion the microwave door opened.  Between one breathe and another he was gagging on the most vile of smells. Then the smoke detector began to howl and the sprinklers Tracy installed went off…

X

"Whew, what is that …” The front door closed.  A few footsteps, soggy sounding, came closer.  “What on earth…  Professor, why are you…" Tracy stared dumbly at his mentor, who wringing out his coat.

"I tried to cook and my help left me when he lost his patience and... the usual happened."

"Professor…" Tracy sighed. "You should have let me cook… you know you can't cook and what do you mean "had help", you don't mean...?"

"His rocket side was on the surface this afternoon. I hope it's settled down a little before he joins us for dinner."

Tracy made a strangled noise and Oak smiled ruefully.

"If you don't like him coming here you could just tell him that yourself Tracy."

"And get killed?" Tracy sputtered.

"He's not all that bad Tracy, most of it was just reputation, if he scared people to death they would be a lot less likely to attack him. It was mainly a bluff."

"It's that "mainly" that bothers me."

Samuel grimaced. "I imagine that's how he'd like it."

X

"It... has a wide variety of texture." Delia said with a wan smile. Watered, burnt, half under done, half over done, it was perhaps the most tactful reference to his cooking Samuel had ever heard.

"I believe Ash's "eww this is gross" was more honest, Ms. Katchum." Professor Oak said with a grin, he pushed aside his plate and Delia did the same. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Ash is right."

Delia nodded, and then blinked as someone knocked on the door. Oak stood, went to the front door and opened it. A young man, about sixteen or so stood a pizza box in hand.

"An order for a Samuel Oak, pineapple, peperoni, and extra cheese pizza?"

"I uh... didn't order any..."

"Caller said that he ordered it for you, he already paid me, so this is yours then."

The pizza was shoved into his hands and the young man turned on his heel and walked off.

"Alright... we've got pizzaaaa!" Ash squealed, abandoning his plate and running to save Professor Oak -or rather the pizza- from falling.

"I uh... guess we do." Samuel looked to Tracy, who shook his head, then to Delia. Shelooked as confused as he did. That left only one person who could have made that order, and he checked a sigh as he realized who the caller was. "Shall we eat?"

Samuel could have spared himself the words, Ash and Tracy had fallen on that pizza like two starving Snorlaxs.

X

Once he was alone Samuel pulled out his cell phone. Tracy and Ash were on the reserve wandering around to do some nocturnal Pokémon watching. Samuel smiled, remembered how their chatter had flowed past him, their happiness, their light, and he sighed.

He stood alone, post decline, and leaned against the side of his own home.  For all intents playing with a cell phone.

If only things were as they looked, life would be so easy if nothing went deeper than the façade.

But it wasn’t, life wasn’t.

 

He looked out into the darkness of his reserve. Once upon a time, in easier times, he would have joined them, no hesitation.  It would have taken some effort, but he would have coaxed Delia from the safety of the light streaked porch to come along. A little adventure across a familiar ground, perhaps they'd see something new, something different, but not this night. He hung back in the shadows, watched as Delia who stood on the porch looking out.

Her slender hands wound around the wooden edge of the rail, the door a mere five steps away, and the retreat was one she was obviously considering. Still she remained yet, her eyes followed the path Ash and Tracy were making though it had long ago been made. He toyed with the phone, and then finally flipped it open and dialed in a number that only he -and perhaps Pallet's Officer Jenny- would know.

"Giovanni here."

"She's here."

"I'm aware of that Samuel, have you lost your nerve?"

Samuel gritted his teeth, he hated this. Hated that he couldn't be himself, that he had to hide his thoughts, his intensions, for even a moment. He had no skill in bluffing, took no pleasure in creeping around his own home like a Rocket. And Giovanni should have known and respect and… and sympathized with him. Not rubbed his lack of Rocket tendencies in his face.

He.. he didn’t want codling, just some honest compassion, some sign that this was going to be alright, that…

"I haven't lost my nerve." Samuel growled.

"Good. I'll be at the rock type reserve if you need me."

Then Leo hung up.

There was no sympathy in the man's tone, no pity, nothing vaguely human, and Samuel shuddered. This danger, this perceived threat was enough to send Leo spiraling back to the darkest days.  And the helpless seeing, the heart deep heart wrenching knowledge of what was happening... Samuel shuddered, was grateful that Leo was fighting off his own demons well enough that he hadn't entertained any... Permanent solutions to the problem.

In that moment he didn't know who he pitied more, Delia, Leo, or himself.

With a sigh Samuel folded the phone shut and slipped the contraption into his pocket.

Things shouldn't be becoming more complicated, he... no they _all_ deserved peace, to live in peace, in quiet. After the hectic days of their youth didn't the older generation deserve the right to grow old and fade quietly away under the march of years? It was right, you left the ambition and scheming to the younger generation and settled somewhere far away, somewhere safe, distant, to enjoy some hard earned peace.

Theirs should be a simple, uncomplicated life.  Instead of what it was.  This focus upon survival in a world filled with strife and deceit made  him sick.

They'd all earned peace, especially Leo who'd cast aside the call of corruption that Raphael had a’l but nailed to his son’s soul.  That man… that monster… had done so much, the spiritual murder of the once young and idealistic trainer was perhaps not the worst of his sins.

But they were still dealing with the misery that “murder” had left behind.

All they could do was tend to matters left in their hands.  Their elders might have made a mess of things, but he’d fix what he could.  Once things were.. were sorted all would be fineAnd part of that sorting would come easier once the truth was all out in the open. No matter how painful that truth, it was part of the past, and as creatures of the present they could face that past.  His, Leo’s, Delia’s if need be.

Clenching his hands, clenching on the last bit of his courage, Professor Samuel Oak left the darkness and mounted up the steps of the porch. Delia started, obviously surprised, but still she smiled, the light from beyond the door, within, framed her nicely.  If he were the poetic type he could make analogues to please the ear, but his poetry stopped at Poke, wasn’t applicable elsewhere.

A shame really, she looked… well pretty, if a touch lonely at that moment.

"Samuel." She was still smiling, and in that gesture he knew that she didn't know, she didn't know what he knew.

"Delia," He sighed the name, regret pain, filled his chest, weighed down his heart. Still, better him, better he do this than Leo. "I... We... need to talk."

"What's wrong?" She left the light, set her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her,his lips curled, and the pain in his heart made the gesture a mockery of what it once was.

Still with that smile he looked her in the eyes, and he spoke the first truth of what would hopefully be a night filled with them.

"Everything."


	8. Guena and Leo: First Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I normally don't ask readers to review directly I will admit it is /very/ disheartening to complete one whole series and get into the second one without one word being said. While I will complete what I've gotten and I'm not going to turn into one of those "I won't updated unless I get x amount or reviews" it does help the creative process if I get a little feed back. I could be making mistakes... and honestly I'm not very likely to catch my own errors. Also a little chatter about shop can get lethargic plot bunnies to be more active, and that never hurts.

 

Two Paths to One End 

Chapter 8

Guena and Leo: First Revelation

_He laughed, for the first time freely and truly he laughed. Guena threw some popcorn at the screen, tired a serious boo as the shows main antagonist swaggered onto the fore front of the screen. She lost her seriousness and started sniggering, Leo wasn't in much better shape as he had clutched his side and was laughing so hard he was crying._

" _Oh my God..." Leo gasped, staring at the "leader" of Team Rocket._

_Clad in black pants, a black shirt with a fiery red "R" in its center. Two black smudges that were perhaps a budding mustache were smoothed down by the black gloved hand even as the "Rocket" ranted. The villain leered at the "Heroic Selfless Pokemon Trainer" and cackled then began to rub his hands together like some stereotypical mad scientist while he proclaimed his plans to blow up the world with an oversized Rocket. Striking a horrible pose the "Rocket Boss's" cape flared out behind him, or rather it tried. It was small, barely fell down to the short man's waist, and it was made of felt and had awful oversized grey frills..._

_Needless to say, the breeze kicked up on the set was barely enough to make the stiff cape flare out... Though the "Rocket's" hair piece was almost blown off._

" _Shut up!" Someone from behind them roared._

" _Quiet up there!"_

" _I'll call the usher!"_

" _Obviously they don't know B films are meant to be laughed at." Guena whispered._

" _It's not a B film." Giovanni croaked._

" _It's bad enough to be one." Guena snorted._

_The "Leader of Team Rocket" flounced up to hurt "Hero" cackling, scheming, and completely ignorant of the Hero's Charizard..._

_A few moments later there was a pile of ashes, the Hero was free, and despite having no training in dismantling explosives had worked open the bomb and revealed a mess of wires._

" _It's the red one!" Guena hollered._

" _Isn't it always -" The young man snorted, settling back into his seat. "I bet he goes ennie minnie, miniy Oh-Ho to pick the right one."_

" _He's stupid enough." Delia smirked._

" _Er hurm!"_

_Giovanni blinked, looked up at the man clad in the theater's dull grey uniform. The man had a flashlight in one hand, one of those name tags pinned on his chest. One of those bright, obnoxious tags that proclaimed "Hi, my name is CHAZ!" in large black print against the white paper. Years of training made Giovanni burn the man's features into his memory in a heartbeat. Freckles, pimply, red haired, green eyes, and a very hard grip. The real rocket boss winced as the man's fingers bit into his arm and wrenched him to his feet._

" _Hey!" Guena hopped out of the chair._

" _You get one warning, let me go, now." Leo hissed._

_Ignoring him, Chaz tightened his grip. "I take it you're the problem everyone's complaining about..."_

_The man reached for Guena to give her much the same treatment, then had less than a second to realize that his fist "captive" wasn't in hand anymore before Leo's fist smashed into the side of his head. Chaz managed to whimpering whine before he hit the ground, there was something boneless to it, and to that Leo grinned._

" _Leo!"_

_Jolted out of his pleasure, the Rocket flicked his gaze to Guena, she seemed oddly pale…  What could be... oh... yes… not a Rocket, he had to remember that._

" _He's still alive, what's the problem?"_

 _His reassurance didn’t alleviate her concerns if her shrill,_ " _You're not supposed to hurt people like that," meant anything._

" _I warned him, he didn't listen... What did I do wrong?"_

_Guena put her hands over her face and groaned._

X

Delia looked up from the papers, looked into Samuel's eyes, a sad and bitter, smile graced her lips.

"I guess it catches up to all of us in the end, no matter how hard you run. Just... God Samuel... Why were you looking... why did you-?"

"He... he was checking to see if you were an undercover agent, or some sort of leak to an anti-rocket organization like Magna or Aqua."

"Who was?" Delia whispered, her hands were shaking and Samuel reached out and closed both his hands over hers. It wasn't much, just a gesture, but she took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "Samuel, who _needed_ to know this?"

"Giovanni." He answered. To that one word she went pale, and the hands under his own began to shake. "Delia, why are you scared of him? You have to tell me why, how you know him..."

"And you'll just tell him?" Delia whispered, fear and loathing in her voice.

"Yes." Samuel closed his eyes, and swallowed. There was a lump in his throat, his eyes were burning. "Or you can tell him. Whatever you like to do. If you don't want me to know, then I won't, he won't tell me what you don't want him to."

"A Rocket's honor." Delia shuddered. "Once sworn it is never broken, the only thing that prevent chaos... I have to trust in that... trust that _monster_..."

Samuel released her hands, stepped back.

"I wish you would trust me." The professor sighed. "You know that you _could_ trust me, to tell him what you wanted."

"So long as I told you and him what he needs." Delia closed her eyes, her hands clenched into fists, silence stretched between them, long and tension filled. "I can't... talk to him, not face to face."

Samuel managed a smile, pulled out his phone with a flourish and offered it to the startled woman.

"Will this help?"

She looked at him, into his tear filled eyes and saw how close he was to breaking. She saw how close his facade of composure was to collapsing. She gently took the offered phone from his hand, and then embraced him. Sighing, Samuel rested his head on her shoulder, and Delia wound her arms around his shoulders. For one second she offered her support, and he wondered if once, long ago, she had been in his place. Trust betrayed, broken, then comforted by the one who had broken that trust.

"Thank you Sam." She whispered. "Thank you, for everything you've done for me and Ash, and for thinking ahead, and... just thank you for everything. Now... please..." Delia loosed her grip, and he stepped out of her embrace. "Please, go with Ash. Stay with him, please... I need to be alone. You don't want to hear-"

"I didn't want to hear that my closest friend was the head of team rocket Delia, but I heard and accepted him, I would accept you, no matter wha-" Samuel reached out, to brush away the tears from her checks.

Delia cringed back from his touch, bowed her head in shame. Her auburn locks fell free from the pins that she put in her hair to hold them back, he ached to push the hair back, to tell her that everything was alright, to hold and reassure...

"How can you, when I can't accept what I did, what I do? Please, Sam... I know it's hard... just trust me to do this on my own, please?"

Samuel slowly lowered his hand, his fingers curled, but the long sleeve of his lab coat hid that so she wouldn't see. She looked at him, pale, so pale and scared, and he had to wonder just what was between her and Leo. He wished to call this whole.. madness.. off.  The temptation to say to Leo that he didn’t have to be this paranoid; there was nothing to fear from this woman. She was just what she seemed . There were no secrets because no secret could be worth all of this pain.

What hse said though was,

"I’ll be with Ash and Tracy if you need us. Feel free to use the bathroom if you need to clean up after you're done."

"Th... thank you..."

He nodded, tried to smile, to reassure, but he knew that his efforts were failing. At last he gave up, and with a bitter sigh left the porch and left Delia to do what she needed to do.

X

Giovanni frowned down at the phone besides him that was now ringing so fiercely it hopped up and down upon the rock he'd set it on.

"Rower!"

Persian went into a crouch, determined that this time the device that had stolen his trainers time for hours on end would meet _its_ end. Catching the tell-tale swish of his Persian's tail and the murderous not to his hiss, Giovanni snatched the phone from the ground saving it from certain death. With a “meroow” the normal type admitted defeat, for the time being. There would be other times, other opportunities to kill the hated "cell phone".

With a click, Giovanni flipped open the phone and put it to his ear.

"Samuel, I take it there's been a prob-"

"Normally..." Came a tight controlled voice on the other end of the line, it was vaguely familiar, and he struggled for a moment to recall who it belonged to. "Don't you start a conversation by asking whose calling?"

"I wasn't aware that Samuel was giving my number out these days."

"He didn't, he put the number in and gave me the phone."

"Then he's there, good, I want to talk to..."

"He went off to check on my son."

"Then, you would be the elusive Delia Katchem."

"Yes."

"The non-existent _Delia Katchem_?" Giovanni purred, laying careful emphasis on the name. The game might have changed suddenly but he was a master of manipulation. Things might have slithered out of his control for a second, but only for a second. With words alone, he would threaten, cajole, and have her secrets from her and her silence.

"I'm here now, aren't I _Gianni_?"

And the game, all his control, abandoned him at that name. That name, only one woman had the right to call him by that. Only one woman in all his life would have not quailed in fear of him, slowly he sat, and stared blankly ahead.

"You haven't changed... not after all these years." The voice on the other line grew soft, sad, disappointed. "You swore you wouldn't become _him_ , I guess you lied."

"Perhaps." Giovanni whispered. "I never meant to, but I did."

There was a long silence, as both absorbed the knowledge of who they were speaking to, after a long fifteen years of separation.

"I thought you had died..."

"And you killed my family in retribution." Delia whispered. "For all the pain they caused me, you set those... _monsters_ after them."

Leo hissed, the sound was -for once- more pain then rage. "You accepted me! You've never judged me before!"

"I had different priorities; I was a different person then."

"We both were." Leo sighed, rage defeated in what could only be a wave of despair. "Guena, we both were different people."

"And the person I am, Leo Giovanni, is fulfilled. I have a child, a life, a life outside the Rockets and where I was born, and I want to keep it."

"It's yours then." Leo submitted, for once not fighting with her. He leaned against the stone he was sitting by, feeling as if a hundred years had been added to his age. "So, you're married then? You have a son?"

"My husband died Leo."

"My _sincerest_ apologies." Leo growled, and at that noise Persian flicked his ears and looked up in confusion. "Not you..." He murmured, petting the silky white fur, in order to reassure, to sooth. "You've done nothing wrong, my friend."

"I haven't either." Guena whispered, somehow hearing the words he'd meant only for Persian.

"You could have told me that you weren't dead." Leo hissed. "How's that for starters? You could have actually told your _first_ husband that you weren't dead? Tell me," he spat, "when you were late, or missing for a few hours did you say that you died then too?"

"You," -Guena growled- "are being unreasonable. You _knew_ what life was like for me, you _knew_..."

"And as if my life was any better!" Giovanni roared. "You didn't have Rockets plotting your death every second of your life, you didn't have to deal with the back stabbing, the-"

"I would have! If I stayed, or came back, I would have! Is that what you wanted Giovanni? Two people shackled to that Hell rather than one! Are you so selfish that you would have damned us _both_! Just leave, leave me and my son alone! Do you hear me? I don't want you near him, or me!"

"Fine." Leo rumbled, his free hand clenched into a fist, the fingers curled around the phone were turning white from the pressure he was exerting on the device. "If that's what you want, then _fine_. But, you see." His voice was a purr, silken, seductive, and filled with venom. "That's a little easier said than done, _Ms. Katchem_ , you see, I can't leave Pallet."

He smiled, it held no mirth, no joy, but for some reason he smiled when she made a gasp that was more pain then anything else.

"I can't leave Pallet, _Ms. Katchem_ , because every police officer in Jhoto, Hoen, the Isles, would hunt me down like a rabid Arcanine. Pallet is my last refuge, my sanctuary of choice, though rest assured that if I had known _you_ were here I would have settled somewhere else."

"You'll leave me and my son _alone_."

"Go to Hell." Leo hissed. "You and your damned Son can go to Hell. I do what I want, you don't have any power over me, no _one_ does. Do you understand me? No one has any power over me. Not you, not Samuel, no one."

Then he pulled the phone away and with a curse wrenched himself to his feet and cast it to the stones. With a sickening crack the screen split and small sparks spat out from the device. He'd have shot the damned thing, just for good measure, but the way his hands were shaking he'd probably have missed and hit his Persian instead.

"Rower!" Hissing, claws out, the normal type pounced on the hated device and proceeded to break it into even smaller pieces. He looked up -wires dangling from his mouth like Ratatta whiskers from an evening meal- to assess the mood his antics had raised in his trainer. Meekly he opened his jaws, let the wires and skin of plastic down by the feet of his enraged trainer as an offering.

"Merow?"

Growling the ex-Rocket smashed his foot into the remains of the cell phone, ground it into the earth then kicked it aside. The normal type ducked and the rain of phone bits arched over his head. Shaking, red faced in rage, Persian didn't even hiss at his trainer's attack. The feline only looked up, his crystal eyes wide in confusion.

"We're going home."

While not an answer Persian was more then happy to go with his trainer, no matter where they were going, it didn't matter. So long as they were going, and home was the best place of all, because it had wonderful cans of Magikarp slivers and Goldeen bites... Tail held high and proudly swishing behind him as hopes of a treat after the long walk home built in his heart, Persian bound after his irate trainer, not quite understanding what all the irritated growls were quite about.


	9. Vengence

Chapter 9

Two paths to one End

Pieces of Vengeance

He wasn't moving, head butting, screaming, and even bringing the _ring a ling_ to him while the thing was screaming were not working. Yes, he'd filled the bowl, given the treats, but then had went to bed in their nest, and well after the morning Pidgy stopped cooing he was _still_ in bed. It was time to take serious measures in paw. Claws out, he hopped on the bed and grimly walked across the orange clad human's leg. The first trip ripped pant leg, the second trip punctured skin, and still no response. Well save that he moaned and rolled over.

"Merow!" Hopping off the bed Persian walked up to the hand and rammed his head against the still fingers. "Merow!"

The claw-less digits twitched, caressed, and over all the gesture was a pathetic petting attempt!

He reached out, batted the paw that had the shiny black and red thing, and the hand withdrew, slithered under the blanket like the rest of him, and if that hand acted like the rest of his trainer Persian knew that it wouldn't come out until the world's end!

"Merow!" Persian kicked the phone and stomped off, more angry then worried. But if things kept up like this he'd fetch Cloyster, then his trainer would know to not act all sick and weak when he clearly didn't smell like he was sick and weak!

"Leo... Leo... damn it I _know_ you're there! Say something!"

Leaving the ring a ling to scream it lungs out, leaving his trainer to wake up on his own for now, Persian put his snout to the ground and began to sniff the floor, looking for a hint of fish smell that wasn't Goldeen or Magicarp in flavor.

X

"Damn it!" Samuel had never cursed so vehemently or so frequently in his life. But six hours of just calling and getting nothing, or leaving message after frantic message... he felt like the proverbial Golem that had rolled around and around till even it's hard skin was ground to nothing. "Leo, I swear to... I'll go down there if you don't call back in five minutes! Do you hear me Leonardo?"

Like all the other countless times before... there was no answer

X

" _Mom!"_

_Ash looked up at his mother, took in her red somewhat swollen eyes, and was so shocked that he dropped pikachu. The mouse let out a little cry of protest, rolled in midair, and stretched its paws to catch itself. With a grunt the yellow creature winced as his stomach smashed into the earth, a little dazed Pikachu hollered up a few complaints at his trainer, but then looked up and saw the pain in Delia's dark eyes._

" _Pika pi!"_

_Bounding up the steps to the porch the yellow mouse made it a split second before his trainer. He leapt, found a perch on Delia's shoulder and nuzzled her check with his dandelion hued head. Pikachu and Delia shuddered at the impact of Ash's embrace._

" _Whatever it is..." Ash promised, holding Delia tightly. "Whatever it is, it's going to be alright."_

" _Nothing's wrong..." Delia whispered_.

" _Mom..." Ash made a face. "I'm thirteen, not three. I know when something's wrong, and it's going to be alright. Alright?"_

" _Noth-" Delia sighed, then smiled sadly at Ash. "Alright dear, whatever you say." She pecked Ash on the check and for once the adolescent didn't protest the gesture._ _"Let's go home. Thank you, Samuel, Tracy, for having us over."_

" _Not a problem Ms. Katchum." Tracy's face conveyed volumes of worry, and all the effort in the world did nothing to conceal it._

" _Goodnight Delia." Samuel sighed, there was something of grief to his farewell, a sentiment reflected in the upward twist of her lips._

_“Goodnight Sam, Tracy.”_

X

Roaring, Giovanni rolled away from the hybrid water gun powder snow attack, and rolled right out of his bed. He tried to stand after his fall but he was tangled in sopping wet blankets all he managed was to trip over his own two feet. Gasping, he wiped the mess of ice and water from his face, and then glared at his two pokemon. Licking his whiskers, Persian was, if nothing else, grotesquely pleased himself for figuring out how to open a pokeball sans thumbs. Cloyster -after seeing his trainers glare- closed his eyes, and then slammed shut the halves of his shell.

Persian had no such conventual defense mechanism, save his inherent cuteness, but then considering Giovanni was a Rocket and therefore immune to the wide Meowth eyes ploy...

Snarling the ex-Rocket Boss snatched his Persian by the scruff of the neck, his black eyes blazing with fury.

"What the Hell is your-"

"Meroooow!"

"Giovanni!"

Snarling a curse Leonardo dropped Persian and stepped over the dazed normal type. He stormed to his front door and wrenched it open. The effect of his storming was somewhat diminished when he nearly slipped in the water he was dripping. Also Persian’s face as he padded after his trainer, mewing pathetically, took the edge off of his ruthless façade.  But neither of those facts registered with Samuel.  The Poke professor cringed back when he saw Giovanni. Or perhaps it was the fury, the near homicidal fury that had been laying under the facade of depression.

"What do you want? There better be a _damned_ good reason-"

"How about yours?" Samuel growled, shaking off his fear to match anger with anger. "How about explaining the _six hours_ of total silence? How about explaining why you didn't answer _one_ of my calls? Delia was a wreck! While I'm mad at you for causing that, don't you think that I'd be concerned for you? If she's in that state, don't you think it'd make me wonder -just for a second- what kind of state _you_ were in?"

Leo opened his mouth, was about to say something cutting...

"It's what friends do Leo." The professor hissed. "They get concerned when they aren't contacted for long periods of time, especially by people who are obsessively punctual. Especially after you promised, especially after you swore up and down that you would contact me _immediately_ after you were done talking to Delia!"

Snapping his mouth shut Leo kept his peace. He glared at the older man, but then grudgingly nodded at the end of Oak's speech.

"There was... an accident. My cell phone was destroyed. I dropped it-"

"You've dropped it before." Samuel protested.

"-several times, forcibly, against a rock..."

Professor Oak lifted an eyebrow, his lips pressed down into a thin line, and Giovanni's mind cleared enough so that he could see just what condition Sam was in. Dusty, his white coat was sweat stained, torn, and the lower parts were streaked with smears of brown and black.  He must have hiked the whole way here through heavens knew what. Shaking his head, Giovanni took a step back, leaving Sam to stand in the glaring light of the sun. From the familiar gloom he took in the scrapes, the cuts, the red stripe from a cut that was likely still oozing, and realized the obvious.  The hike had been hard on the poke professor, the man's concern and fear must have been all consuming...

"Come inside, the walks hard on me, I can't imagine the pain you're in."

"I'm fine..." Samuel protested, his voice was no longer tight with anger, rather it was hitched up in pain as a multitude of cramps made themselves known now that Samuel's fear was on the decline.

"It's not as elegant or opulent as my house was in Viridian, but its home." Leonardo turned from Sam, not bothering to see if the man was coming. "I had it vaguely modeled off of my mansion, but I'll admit I pirated a few ideas from your old lab set up. Close the door behind you. Take a seat, I wasn't expecting company..." Giovanni wrung out his tie then ran a hand through his wet hair.

"Most people wearing sopping wet business suits generally don't expect company."

Giovanni's lips curled slightly, into a half smile.

"Yes, most people soaked into wakefulness by their Cloyster's don't expect company to come this early in the morning.

"It's noon Leo."

"That sounds like morning to me."

Despite the joke Samuel didn't laugh, if nothing else he looked more concerned.

X

"We both... have... had a history, together."

Catching Samuel's confused look Leo mentally sighed, and lay heavily against the leather chair he'd chosen. Sam sat across from him, an untouched chess board sat between them. Seeing that meaning was not sinking in Giovanni clarified his statement as tactfully as he could.

"Together, intimately."

Still Sam's face was marred with a frown, his brow covered in the wrinkled of his confusion, this time Giovanni sighed out loud and rolled his eyes.

"We were _lovers_."

Confusion fled then Sam's mouth formed a silent "O" of understanding... then as the meaning really sank in the jaws sagged and the professor looked up at Giovanni in such horrified shock that the ex-Rocket laughed.

"She had a different name, a different life, we both were in the same circles, she was a pretty girl, I was a bit of a rouge and rebel. At least I was in public." Giovanni smirked at the ignorance of those who had thought that they'd known him. Everyone had fallen for his act, buying illusion for reality. Perhaps only Samuel knew the real Giovanni. "I corrupted her; she was a bit too nice you know. I didn't make her do anything illegal, but a few defiance's here, a few rebellions there... Her parents hated me; she was infatuated more with the life that I was leading her to rather than me. Ironic that when she settled, when I had decided it was time for me to "grow up" in the public eye, that there was anything left between us. But there was, enough for us to have a relationship, to see each other time and time again and then to fall in love. One thing lead to another..."

He waved a hand, compressing several months -perhaps a few years- time filled with passion, hope, all into one silent little gesture.

"And?"

"She wanted to say yes, her parents said no, and they tried to marry her off to someone else who... met an accident. It's said that in despair she died. Torn between her lover and her parents’ wishes, she hesitated, and met with the disapproval of both she died, or suicided... or was murdered. That's the public's view on it, I've never bothered to offer the correction."

"What happened?"

Leo's eyes closed to mere slits, he looked at the air in front of him intently.

"I've never bothered to offer the correction... because I don't know what happened. I thought she was dead, she used her supposed death to hide, doesn't that say enough?"

"It doesn't say anything." Samuel whispered.

"It says enough, at least for me. She's safe form me, perhaps the safest person in the world." The ex-rocket bared his teeth in what was not a smile. "Does that make you happy, Sam? To know that your little girl friend is safe from me, does that make you happy?"

The venom, the hate in that tone made the professor cringe back in his chair. He looked at Giovanni, at that face that was clearly not human or humane, and shivered.

X

Turning Giovanni offered a hand, pulled Samuel up to the final ledge and then paused to look at the path they'd traveled. The cave that lead to his home was lost somewhere behind them, its entrance was masked in the hundred other crevices and holes that lead to other caverns. You had to climb down, down the bowl shaped incline. Perhaps begun the formation had been begun by the claws of burrowing Sandshrew, the wild thunderous falls of the preserves Golem and Graveler, had over time smoothed out the edges, and the tunneling Onix had made it grow so that it's size rivaled the stadium in Indigo. Over all it was an impressive sight, and he nodded in approval, as always. His world might be Hell, his life turbulent, but in matters of security and defense he knew he was well covered. No one could possibly find him and...

"YOU!"

Giovanni sighed, lifted his head up and stared at the young trainer from Pallet. Obviously his security and secrecy were far from perfect if Guena's brat had found him that easily. Fists clenched, eyes blazing with anger, Ash glared at him, and Giovanni felt a similar expression twist his features. The boy's stance, and more importantly the raw hate in those eyes, promised a fight, and it was one that Leonardo would not shy away from. But instead of going for a pokeball, challenging him to a more formal duel, Ash charged.

While not the proper way to do things Giovanni was far from disappointed with the boy. He clenched his hands into fists, watched the child scramble over unsteady ground and gravel to get to him. While Guena's husband Will wasn't on hand to get vengeance on, Will and Guena's child would serve.


	10. Rain

Chapter 10

Two Paths to One End

Rain

 

_She had trusted him, explicitly. Baring both body and soul, and she had thought he had done the same. His betrayal was a thing of subtle evasions, illusions… And it was all shown in a heartbeat, by accident, by a stranger._

_He stared into her eyes, the old man dressed in black with a crimson shown only on a badge over his heart. The man before her wore the badge with obvious pride. The marks of his old trade were shown in a mess of scars that criss-crossed his face, the lines of old cruelty had not been worn away by almost a decade of life spent as a civilian._

_He took in her pale face, her trembling hands. He saw her shattered innocence, and the small smile of greeting on his face pulled down into a frown. At last, as silence built between them, as tension and horror mounted in her eyes, the old man opened his mouth. Not to reassure, but to voice his shock._

" _He didn't tell you?"_

X

The punch was a mockery of an attack. While the rage was quite genuine, the attack was feeble. Lifting a hand, he blocked the hit. Caught the fist in his palm and the boy nearly stumbled at his feet for having the attack halted. Samuel cried out, ordered Ash to stop, then yelled at Giovanni when the ex-Rocket clenched his hand over the boy’s, digging his fingers into the boy's knuckles in such a way that the child sank to his knees with a pained howl.

"Leo!"

Calloused hands grasped his wrist, tried to wrench his grip off of Ash. But it was of his own will that Giovanni let go and stepped back. And even then… even then he only retreated to better deliver a parting kick that left Guen's child sprawled out on the rocky ground. He was about to move forward, to finish what he started. How he wasn’t sure, couldn’t decide.  His rage coiled hotly in his gut, setting a red mist over his vision, and he wasn’t inclined to be picky, just messy.

Then someone was standing in front of him, and the sight of that face, twisted in an expression so unfamiliar it was alien, stilled Loenardo Giovanni's hand.

"Get out of my way, Sam."

"No."

The sight of Samuel's anger, a rage nearly as deep and dark as his own shocked Giovanni out of his madness. Snarling a few oaths in his native tongue, he turned, stared at nothing while he fought to regain control over himself. Wisely, the Professor went to Ash, helped the boy find his feet and looked over the child's injuries. It wasn't bad, Giovanni's counter attack hadn't been strong enough to break bones or leave any other type of lasting damage. Sick to his heart, Samuel figured that the gloves Ash always wore would hide whatever bruises might form.

As for the kick, it winded Ash, and had forced him back, that was all.

"Alright," Samuel growled. "I want an explanation, from both of..."

"Go to Hell." Giovanni rasped. "You, the boy, and your damned explanation can go..."

"Despite what... _she_ did to you, you've no right to take it out on Ash. Ever. Or am I talking to Raphael? Because, if I am, if ever I see Raphael in you, no matter the forum, no matter your reasons... I'll force you to leave."

That threat was enough to steal Giovanni's breath, and the profane heavy reply gargled in his throat and died. He saw, from the look of rage in Samuel's eyes, just how far he had fallen. Gnashing his teeth together, Giovanni unclenched his fists and nodded.

"If I'd fallen that far, you'd have all the right in the world to exile me."

Weary, Ash got to his feet and turned to Professor Oak.

"Who's Ralphael?"

The professor didn't answer. Sure that Ash could stand on his own he hid his shaking hands into his pockets and with a jerk of his head indicated that they were to go. By the direction of the gesture, they were heading to the professor's house. Silence, tense, charged, fell between them as they began the long walk to Oak's.

At last, unable to take the extended quiet, Ash asked again. But Professor Oak acted like he hadn't heard, and Giovanni wasn’t inclined to answer.

So it was left a little mystery, for a little mind.  Hopefully the brat would have an aneurism over the complications and just drop dead.

X

 _"So, he kept you innocent, I thought that wasn't in him. To protect someone... so selflessly. I guess he wasn't as cold as I thought. 'Course, if he was_ that _cold I'd be a dead man." Smoothing his mustache, absently clothed in colors normally worn by villains, he stared at her. His black eyes were hard, but not totally unsympathetic. "He gives me, the one's who've had too much, he hides them away, makes 'em disappear. He's hiding you... but from what?"_

_"The Rockets were after them." She whispered. "They moved against them too often, he was shielding m-."_

_He laughed, hard sharp barking laughs scraped against the walls of a throat gone harsh from years of screaming commands... Or perhaps he had screamed for darker reasons, perhaps he'd screeched his hate, as a Fearow would shriek it's rage in a battle. He crossed the distance between them, his polished black boots moving soundlessly on the filthy boards that served as the room's floor._

_"He's moving against them at last, I see." Black eyes glimmered with amusement. "Then you're Guena Silvamore."_

_"How do you know who I-" She bit her lip, remembered how he told her to tell no one who she was. Yet, this man, this stranger, seemed to pick her identity from her thoughts despite all her attempts to hide it. Yet, her attempts were only physical, little more than a change of clothes, a discarding of all her wealth. Anyone with a mind could see she wore the blue jeans and t-shirt with obvious discomfort. She flushed in shame at her shortcomings, and then flinched as he touched her._

_"Your family has earned his hatred. Yet one's earned his respect, even his love." A calloused hand caressed her cheek, making a mockery of affection. "Who'd of thought he'd sink so low as to court one from the family that'd kill us all."_

_Then it clicked, his "contacts", his "business associates", the times he'd sent her from the room when certain men had entered. The cold glint in his eyes as he shrugged off loses that would have broken other businessmen. The slight mocking tone to his voice when he spoke of vague plans, plans with no substance, of how he'd regain his losses with profit._

_And how they always came through, no matter what._

_No matter who died, who suffered, Leonardo Giovanni always seemed to come out on top. Some of the killings, the disappearances... how beneficial they had been. Not that she'd have even thought of it when he was there, when he was there she was lost. Lost in his charming smile and warm eyes._

_Her hands shook, as in this place, in this gritty dark space that was a thousand times more_ real _than the opulent wealth... Reality hit, and it hit hard._

_"How long?"_

_"All his life." That hard voice hissed black eyes warm, taking pleasure in her pain. "He's his father's son, after all."_

_X_

Pain, and loss made the brat tractable. It put a cap on the boy's endless endurance and enthusiasm.

Even if it had been an enthusiasm for vengeance it was annoying. The quiet -perhaps a precursor to depression perhaps not- was a relief to his aching ears and throbbing head. As they had walked, Persian had finally caught up and seeing Pikachu had purred. The mouse, having missed the fight due to its sloth, had answered with a happy "pika". Oblivious to the tension, Pikachu and Persian took up the rear, the yellow mouse riding the larger normal type as a human might ride a Ponyta. They talked, quietly, and he suspected another attempt at a ketchup run if the rat’s shady face was anything to go by.

It was a long walk, and he'd spent most of it glaring at Ash Silvamore's -never would he think of the boy as _Katchem_ , that would give the interloping bastard who’d taken Guena away from him more than he deserved- back. Rock smoothed to grass, and at last their destination loomed before them. He'd had time to think, time to mull, and while his temper wasn't as hot as it had been earlier it had cooled somewhat.

Or rather it had cooled enough so that he didn't fantasize of pulling his gun out of its holster and shooting Ash in the back.

It had been hard to think coherently at first. To see the living, breathing, symbol of Guena's betrayal of him to another man, _right_ in front of him. It had been hard, and it hurt, it hurt like hell. It still hurt, yet despite himself he picked out little things in the boy's motions. In the quick steps, the inquisitive -though dulled of enthusiasm the curiosity was still there- glances. All trademarks of Guena, a younger Guena, the woman who'd loved him.

Not the old embittered, cold woman she most certainly was now.

 _Not fair,_ his conscience sighed, like a disquiet Ghastly in the back of his mind _, she might be that way towards you. But not to Sam, else he wouldn't have anything to do with her, or the brat._

As if that helped any.

Despite himself, he chuckled at his loss. It was an instinctual sound, of a man who belittles everything below him, even if it was himself. To that noise Ash turned. His gaze was hot with accusation, anger, and it became a shudder as Giovanni coolly stared him down.

_Give me one reason, just one, and you'll die._

Perhaps reading the promise in those empty eyes, Ash shivered, perhaps it was from the chill breeze that came down from the mountains and brushed their backs.

X

"It's going to rain, isn't it Mime-y?"

Her Mr. Mime knew what that meant. Out he went, to check the weather with sense that she didn't possess to confirm what she had guessed. He came back a moment later, and nodded. With a series of familiar motions and sounds he asked if she wanted to wrap the plants up outside.  Spring storms could sometimes be fierce and cold, and that combination could wreck damage on her garden. She nodded, but shook off the large hand that fell on her shoulder in silent entreaty to join in a flurry of activity. Fetching the potted plants and bringing them in, of wrapping the more ground bound ones in thick fabrics to keep them warm...

"No Mime-y I'm not feeling too good right now."

That large head with its impossibly cheery face tilted to the side. Blue eyes went wide, with concern, and she smiled. Somehow she smiled, despite the scent of rain in the air.

"I'm alright; I'm just going to lie down. If I'm asleep please wake me when Ash gets home."

X

_"Are you sure, that you'll be safe?"_

_"I'd be more concerned about yourself, missy." The gruff ex-rocket said with a grin. Her charm in the nine months she'd spent with him had worn on his hardness. He kept up a facade, and she allowed him it with a teasing smile to tell her that she saw right through him. "He's thrown from the trail. Black with bloodlust and hate, he's focusing on the Magma's like I thought he would. Still, for the love of God,_ don't _get caught. He figures you betray him, he'd kill you for the insult of it alone."_

_She nodded, from what she knew of Leo.. no Giovanni, she'd expect no less. She'd learned more of him every day, even from their separation. You learned a lot, she had discovered, from hiding out in the open. Pretending to be a Rocket in training, garbed in the baggiest of uniforms until her pregnancy had been impossible to hide... Then she'd hidden, living, no surviving in the moist darkness of Old Will's cellar._

_Curious, he spied the weeks old babe, resting in her arms. He opened his mouth, to ask who's it was. Not his, by any stretch, but rumors held she'd been caught between the Boss and another, and had chosen neither. Or had she? Had she chosen one, and now fled Giovanni for fear of the repercussions of her choice?_

_He closed his mouth, and curled his lips into a grin._

_"The lies are set, best run along now, girl. Run,’n’ don't look back."_


	11. Dark Promise

Two Path's to One End

Chapter 11

Dark Promise

 

Ash was the first to speak, despite being mad, and hurt, he wrung out his sopping wet hat and opened his mouth to chatter brainlessly about the storm they’d just experienced. Gritting his teeth, Giovanni worked off the tie and shrugged off his once immaculate -now saturated- orange suit. One callous throw was enough; enough to make the hat and coat rack topple under the weight of the discarded garments. What bad humor he'd worked out from the hike here had come back with a vengeance when it had started sprinkling.

When it had started pouring however, his temper had deteriorated further, until he was almost seeing red.

"You look like a drowned Rattata." Ash commented helpfully.

"And he's about as cheerful as a soaked Charizard, and even more violate. Ash, please, leave Leo alone."

Under the words was a grim tone that went right over Ash's head. But Leo heard it, and dredged up a grin. A small, half smile, that promised that he wouldn't summon Rydon or NidoKing to Hyperbeam the brat into the next life.

After all, if he did so, the roof would cave in. And it would be a dismal long _wet_ walk to his apartments on Oak's preserve.

Shaking his fur, Persian mewed helplessly. The familiar crystal eyes were wide with horror at the fact that they _both_ were wet. Bad enough for Persian to be wet, but a wet trainer meant no warm lap to dry off in.

"Oh, shut up." Leo growled.

"Meroooow!"

"You aren't dying." Leo rasped. "So long as you aren't dying I don't want to hear it."

"You know, it's kinda drafty in here." Ash noted, to no one in particular.

Oak looked up from bolting the door, and sniffed the air. He nodded a silent agreement to the boy's words. Muttering something about the rain smell being too strong and asking himself if he'd left any windows open, Oak forgot to hang his white coat on the rack.  It slapped around his ankles with wet thwacks as he pursued thought and paced, accidently checking a window here and there.

“Sam,” Giovanni barked, “coat.”

“Oh, um… yes…”  Sam sort of obeyed.  He shrugged off his sodden coat, tossed it as some absent direction that wasn’t even a corner. 

In short he was the perfect image of stereotypical distracted Poke-professor.  And never knowing, Oak wandered around the room, going from window to window. He checked locks and after finding no windows that had been even open a crack came back to reality.

"That's strange, I always leave the windows open, I wonder what's-"

"And I guess the idea of thieves don't deter you from the practice? Even _after_ those three incompetent Rockets came in and robed you bl-"

"Where's Tracy?"

Silence fell, as the adults stopped mid-sentence. Giovanni abandoned his gripping about Samuel's careless lifestyle; it was set aside by the jarring inconsistency Ash had just brought to their attention. Normally, no matter the weather condition, Tracy was inside at this hour. Samuel was a late riser, Tracy was an early one. So they'd set their schedules accordingly. Tracy lived downstairs, by the door. Which, despite the room's draftiness was all the better for the two. For the boy could wake up, get prepared for his morning tasks, and then depart, all without waking Samuel. The Poke Professor, now with a competent aid, could -and did with a vengeance- crawl out of bed at the unholy hour of ten in the morning, and get to handling his end of things. Normally, now that there were two of them, they could retire from tending the pokemon and the reserve around three.

It was generally unspoken but widely known, that Tracy did the bulk of the heavy labor. And that when the boy finished his apprenticeship that Samuel was going to have to find someone else to help him. Frowning, worried that something actually might have happened to the boy, Leo checked the gun in its holster. He nodded his approval; while tasteless in its bulk the winding leather straps that were hooked to his belt had kept the water from touching his gun. From far off, he had heard a muffled thump, and grunted.

"You and... Ash stay here, I'll be back in a minute. Persian, you're with me."

"Wait, we can come too!"

"Pika pi!" Pikachu bobbed his head in agreement, hopped to his paws -he'd been lounging at Ash's feet- and bound up to Giovanni.

It was Persian who let out the a scathing hiss before Leo could even form the words of his disapproval. At that noise Ash froze and Pikachu made a token "pika" of complaint.

"He's right, if this is a case of another Rocket attack I'm best suited to deal with it. Anyways, I need you to guard Samuel, or else he'll probably wind up with another broken leg."

Samuel opened his mouth, closed his mouth, then said grudgingly. "I think he's right, Ash."

In the face of both adults reining him in, Ash gave up all plans of "tagging along" with a sigh.

"Don't worry." Leo assured his old friend with a wry grin, ignoring Guena's brat easily. "I won't get caught doing anything your precious morals disagree with."

"I know you won't get caught." Oak's voice was chill. "But will it stop you from doing it?"

"I'll bury them deep, so deep you won't find a hint, I promise."


	12. Fridge Raiders

Two Paths to one End

Fridge raiders

 

It wasn't as dark as he'd like. Feeling naked under a barrage of omnipresent electric lighting, he walked through brightly illuminated rooms and halls. While he searched, he cursed Samuel's obsessive cheer with all his heart.

Dismissing such thoughts as worthless –Samuel wasn't going to change at this late date on Giovanni's account- he pulled the door before him open. He didn't brazenly kick the door open as say… a _blue_ might. Or unprofessionally lunge into the quiet, confident that his status as a criminal would shield him like a brash young Grunt… Quietly, silently, he turned the knob, opened the door a bit, then there was a familiar brush against his calf, a flash of white at his feet.

Persian was in, and after a mental count of five seconds he followed.

Nothing greeted him, save silence and a cheerful Persian. It had been like this all down the hall and through a once dining room area, now makeshift library. There had only been one surprise, a family of ratatta had made a nest in some long forgotten broom closet. He'd defused the almost bloodshed by grabbing Persian and quickly closing the door so the sleeping mice –it was a wonder they hadn't woken up screaming- could carry on.

"We're hunting bigger game." He had growled.

And as if to agree, they both heard another of those thumps, it was louder, and there was an undercurrent of muffled words.

Ears pricked up in excitement at the prospect of large pray, Persian forgot the cluster of mobile snacks and went ahead.

And Giovanni had followed, old patterns, old ways, were all coming back with a vengeance. Excitement stirred blood turned stagnant by endless days of intrigue and word games. More alive than either of them had been in years, Persian lead, and Giovanni followed.

X

Broken glass, he did not disturb it, it had been broken enough already by careless boot prints. Kneeling he studied the patterns of breakage, and saw the way of entry. Persian discovered the rock, and Giovanni sniffed in time with Persian on that one.

Amateurs, it was a blatantly childish, so basic that a child could have done it.

They pressed ahead, steeping onto familiar linoleum floors and then froze. They stared at the refrigerator in shock. Both rooted by the words that someone had _spray painted_ onto the door of the fridge.

"I knew I should have killed them." Giovanni said at last.

"Merow." Persian agreed.

And that was all that needed to be said.

X

"Well, it looks like a Rocket attack." Officer Jenny said, directing one of the forensic photographers to take photos at the broken glass.

"Are you sure it's not an imitator or something?"

Taking off her hat, the Officer ran a hand through her short cropped blue hair. She shook her head, and the photographer wandered off to the back of the kitchen, to gather what books had been knocked over. They'd be taken for fingerprint samples, but Samuel felt that there destruction –which the tests would result in- was needless. So he offered a token protest, and was silenced by the officer's glare.

"I'm sorry Professor, but we have to be sure. We've expected a… surge of Rocket activity in Pallet for quite some time actually. If this is it, the beginning, than we need to be prepared."

"You don't need to dance around me, Officer, I know why, and you know why. Let's just say that _he_ told me that if it is Rocket cell thirteen we've got nothing to worry about."

"Well, it might _not_ be." Jenny said firmly. "And that's what we need to find out, if it is or isn't." She considered him, her blue eyes dark with thought. "I wasn't aware the civilians were being told."

"I'm a special case, we're old friends."

If nothing else, Jenny's suspicion grew more obvious, but Samuel shrugged it off, and looked to his ruined fridge. It had been raided completely, and the hot red words that were on it promised that he'd be spending an hour or two coating the steel fridge with a skin of white paint. He winced at the sound of steel scraping wood when they pulled the fridge out of its customary place. One officer called Jenny to take a look at this.

Expecting cut wires, he was surprised to see the vandals had finished their odd rhyme/song on the back, clearly having ran out of room on the front. Sketched in pen were three letters and a trade mark red "R".

"J, J, & M"

The newspapers would call it the case of the Rocket Fridge Raiders. The tabloids would say the Ghost of Leonardo Giovanni was rallying the Rockets to make evil food pokemon hybrids.

a span of half a month, when nothing new happened, all was quiet, and the refrigerator Samuel just sighed, and eventually bought a new refrigerator. Giovanni refused to say a word about it to anyone, even to the police. Ash thought it was funny –the stories, not Oaks' loss of food- until the next place hit was his house. Then he went to Giovanni and yelled at the ex-Rocket leader about how it had all been his fault.

The fallout from that fight had been spectacular and the sniping had lasted for days.

 Chaos fell upon Pallet for all of two weeks, and then after the raiders didn’t reappear they were soon forgotten.


	13. Secure

Two Paths to one End

Chapter 13

Secure in insecurity

Rage, while useful in a fight was in the long run too destructive to be useful. It wasn't weeded out… rather it was suppressed. When it peaked it came out in violence, a catharsis of killing. And that, more than anything else, was why the Rockets were at their core a criminal organization. After a lifetime of such helpful training a Rocket could pick out and describe the components that served as a trigger. Several Rockets developed particular "triggers". Scenes, people, places… scents… it could be as vague or specific as the subconscious needed it to be.

The criminal and depraved mind wasn't all that picky and it was -if nothing else- an ill ordered chaotic mess. Betrayal was one of his oldest triggers, perhaps preceded only by violence. Years and the dubious Rocket training Giovanni had acquired during life told the ex-Boss this. As well as silence and enough time to actually mull over every time he'd lost his cool in the past. It was a miracle, a bloody God given miracle that Samuel had come when he had. In the face of Giovanni's subconscious personification of compassion the ex-Rocket had managed to regain his calm.

Days later been able to banish his hellish rage, but control had come first, and while precarious it had been enough to avoid doing anything more to rip his life to shreds.

In the shadows of his most recent hiding place Leonardo Giovanni sighed. It was a long boring thing, waiting. And the surplus of time was ripe with opportunity to mull over the past.

So he mulled, and waited. And he wondered what he was doing here, when he was so unsure.

X

Time had been a razor to the flesh of his rage. It had sliced cold and clean. It parted his jealousy and let the red of his fury run free. In the darkest rooms of his "mansion" he had sulked, unsatisfied, now understanding that in anger he had been duped. He went over it, again and again, analyzing every turn of phrase until his head throbbed and he submitted to the need of sunlight and stepped outside for a while. The fresh air had helped too, as well as the soothing peaceful quiet that pervaded the reserve.

Silence, after years and years of meaningless racket, was a slice of heaven. Perhaps the saying was clichéd, but it fit his feelings on the matter. Had he been a younger man, still brimming with ambition and frustration he might have felt differently. God only knew that things between himself and Guena would have panned out in a completely different light. He would have not allowed her to survive his all-important pride would have forbade him from letting her escape him… or his punishment. Stretching, he basked in the light, lounging on one of the many flat rock islands that were scattered all along the rock type segment of Samuel's property. It seemed perfectly normal to be thinking such dark thoughts amidst the sunshine and pristine natural beauty that was the core of Sam's preserve. Persian yawned; his crystal eyes closed to slits as he arched his back then broke out of his self-inflicted bunk by stretching his fore legs as far as they would go. Absent was the hand that reached out to stroke and tweak milk white fur, but heartfelt was the purr of reply.

After a few more moments of relaxation Giovanni stood. He brushed his orange suit free of what dust he could, than continued on. It was a long walk, from what served for him as "home" and Sam's, and the day wasn't getting younger.

X

"-is run by a talking Meowth. He's the leader, sly, cunning, and somewhat of a short range planner, if you must know." Checking a yawn, Leo lounged back in his "brooding chair" –Sam's name for it, not his- and looked up at the officer through half closed eyes. Officer Jenny's blue eyes met his; her face was a study of obvious disapproval.

"I believe, Mr. Giovannni, that you aren't taking this serious enough."

"Why should I?" Leo challenged coolly.

"They attacked Pallet."

Looking around in mock surprised, Giovanni peered to his left and right. "Really? I don't see any gutted buildings or dead bodies anywhere. Are you sure?"

A few feet away Samuel Oak nearly choked on his laugh. The Poke professor turned laughter into a cough when the officer's glare lifted off of Giovanni and settled onto him.

"Officer, you are wasting your time and mine." Leonardo growled, letting a thin edge of genuine menace to creep into his tone. "Magma and Aqua should be your primary concern, not some offshoot unemployed, desperate, faction of Team Rocket."

"Unemployed?"

"Official cut from the pay role after failing to catch some trainer's Pikachu for almost two years running." Leo explained to Sam. "Another term, for the uneducated, would be fired."

"But they wear the uniform and say they're from Team Rocket." Jenny protested.

"Think of them on par to children, wearing a police officer's uniform, claiming to be officers."

"That are run by a talking Meowth…." The Officer's frosty tone told Giovanni he wasn't being believed. Before the ex-Boss of team rocket could lose his temper at the tenacious woman Samuel put in his word on the matter.

"Is."

Leonardo turned, his black eyes clearly conveying his confusion.

"To be grammatically correct it would be "is run by". Really Officer-" Samuel had rolled back his sleeves so he wouldn't upset the pieces he was setting on a familiar black and white board. "-what kind of example are you setting for the children if you can't talk properly?"

Leonardo laughed at the nonplussed look on the blue haired woman's face. For the first time in days he laughed without an edge of rage or hysteria to the sound. Samuel smiled at his own sally, and then tugged at his sleeves. They fell back in place, covering the older man's scrawny white haired arms. The ex-trainer, current and aged pokemon professor mockingly bowed to the board, and Giovanni laughed. He stood, dismissing the young woman not with a look, or a word, but the complete denial of existence.

"If you get any more sarcastic you'll be mistaken for me." Leo noted, taking his seat across from Samuel.

"Hardly, I'd have to lose more hair and also become overly fond of the color orange."

"Red doesn't flatter a man who turns crimson when he loses his temper." Giovanni explained.

"As if orange does?"

To that Leonardo chuckled, and considered the board. At last he sighed.

"Why is it you're _always_ white?"

"It flatters the coat." Sam replied, as if he had just explained everything."

Behind them, Jenny snapped her notebook shut with more noise than necessary. Leonardo didn't even look up. Instead he concentrated on the board and the pieces. Sam moved a pawn, initiating the beginner's ploy of fools mate. Raising an eyebrow, Leo obliged him, moving his pawn. Both men made a show of studying the board while waiting for Jenny to leave. The slam of a door followed by the screech of wheel against gravel told them it was safe. Both men stood, abandoning the board and all pretext of play.

"You've got two hours; I can cover for you that long." Samuel grimaced. While he didn't quite hate the police, his recent conflict with them made him more open to Giovanni's purposes. "I'll pull the queen off the board if she comes back. If both monarchs are gone…"

"Run like hell back to the reserve." Leo grunted, well aware of the system. He'd thought it out years ago, it's original purpose had been to get himself out of jail. Funny how he adapted it to this situation with relative ease. "Don't worry Sam. Breaking probation is easy."

"It's the getting caught part that worries me." Samuel grumbled.

"If you were a Grunt under my employ I'd give you hell about how needlessly worrying about something almost guarantees that everything will go wrong."

"Well," Running a nervous hand over his sleeve, Samuel favored him with a look brimming with reprimand. "It's a very good thing you aren't my boss, isn't it?"

Leo smiled, took the barb with scarcely a wince. He opened his mouth, a profane laced protest on the tip of his tongue. At last he swallowed it and rather lamely muttered. "I wasn't that cruel Sam, really, I wasn't."

"It's in the past, Leo. It doesn't matter anymore unless you make it matter." Samuel sighed. "Just hurry, alright? My stomach's going to be in knots until you get back."

Leo nodded; he checked a sigh, a futile protest, and a boast that he'd never gotten caught before...

"I'll check in before I go home." He promised.

And that, more than anything else Leonardo could do comforted Sam the most. So he left it at that and got the hell out of there.

X

Footsteps... He froze, listened. He nodded, satisfied. The flop of sandals on cement announced the fact that his target was returning from a rather protracted stay in the gardens out front. More important than her return, was that she was alone. He stood, and with practiced grace pulled himself out of the shrubbery he'd been crouched behind making not a sound. Silent as his Persian, he pulled open the window besides him, and slipped inside. He'd already pried the thing open, his work guaranteed that it opened from the outside as quietly as it would from the inside. Pausing a moment to pull branches and leaves from his attire Giovanni listened, and decided against maintaining his silence. He pulled a chair from behind Guena's kitchen table and set himself in it. And he waited, it was a short wait -the house was rather small- but he would make sure that she came to him.


	14. Once upon a time

Once Upon a Time

"Surprised to see me?"

He leaned back and the chair creaked alarmingly. It was made of hard wood, without so much as a pillow to offer a shred of comfort for the rear. Despite its flaws he treated it as the chair he had back home. Imagining it over lapped with this sad specimen of seat he managed to assume a pose that was pure relaxation. The heart of it was a farce, the edges bit into his legs, but ignoring pain was second nature to him.

And what paltry discomfort he endured was banished in seeing her pain. The widening of the eyes, the paling of her delicate features…

He smiled, as he lounged. Once upon a time he'd have kicked his feet upon a long dark desk. She'd have taken the seat opposite, and they would have talked. Sometimes of business, other times of gossip. Their time together had been a blessed short span where walls could come down. All in the name of love, he had trusted her, and she had betrayed him,

_Once upon a time…_

Like fantasy, love was a thing long lost. He sighed at its absence, then set his hands behind his head. He turned his head to better regard her. Like a drunkard long denied liquor he thirsted for the sight of her. Even her terror would do. And she had aplenty of that, he smiled, hunger satiated for the moment.

Guena Silvamore, it's been so _very_ long."

She winced at the name, as if it were a curse. Perhaps it was. His smile widened at her pain.

Setting her hand upon her bosom she drew back a weary half step. Never blinking he watched each motion. She was not one to threaten or act in violence. She hadn't been aggressive or hostile in the least. But years had passed, he'd take no chances, and she _was_ nearing the knife rack on the far counter…

"Not long enough." She countered, black eyes flashing. Her words were coated in ice, dipped in disgust, they dripped venom. "What do you want?"

"I  
was in the neighborhood, and decided to drop in for a visit, isn't that cause enough? You must forgive me if I'm not too familiar with the customs of small towns. I hope I'm not… interrupting anything?"

The house was silent and vacant. Her pokemon were out in the garden, the boy was not to be back for an hour. She could plead no excuse to put this off that was not a lie.

She knew that, and he knew that.

"What do you want?"

As her hand curled around the hilt of a steak knife Giovanni raised an eyebrow. "I would ask for what was mine, but something tells me you would not be obliging."

"I'm not a thief!" Delia hissed. "Not like you."

"Feel free to count the silverware; I assure you I've made no withdrawals." With a dull thunk the dull steel blade cleared its wooden holder. Amused more than alarmed Giovanni barked out a laugh. "Guena, you can put the knife down, if you know of me than you are aware I always have a gun. I'd pull it out and kill you before you got halfway across the room."

The knife's point lowered, only that. For her credit Guena had gotten more cautious since going on the run. Just not cautious enough. She'd been still too long, feeding the same lies to herself and those about her until she became at ease with the pseudo truths. She'd made the mistake of buying into her story, for living out the lie.

Eventually lie had become truth -for her at least. Any with eyes could see the tattered framework she'd made her life around. He saw the remains clearly. Thin, grey, a virtual trail much akin to a failed string shot, those twining ethers tied her to him. One snap, one hard word, and they would fall apart, a ruin between the two of them. He had no plans to tug upon the ties, no... he'd not settle to merely tug... He'd demolish, demolish and burn, rip, tear, and rend, and leave her with scars to match his own.

Thus had been his original plans, and though they changed in the face of a disturbing revelation, they had not changed much. A minor deviation. Deviation was ever the necessity when need was pitted against pleasure.

But pleasure was all the sweeter for a small span of abstinence.

"I want something, but I don't think I'll have it. Not in this lifetime, by any means." With a tilt of his head Giovanni indicated Guena's knife. "Be grateful, Guena, because the man I am is an honorable one at it's core. I'll honor enough of what you were to let the insult pass, but only if you cooperate."

Through pallid lips she force the words, and they were as he expected. Mere repetition of the last. He chuckled, and stood.

"What do I want?" Giovanni murmured. "How about the truth? We'll move on from there once you give me the truth, we'll see where all this leads."

X

In the tales things were supposed to end all right. Though circumstance divided them, and wars were waged, one act of mercy, one motion of compassion, and everything was supposed to fall into place. Like pieces of the puzzle, every cause, effect, and event, had its place. Once put together the whole it should have come together with a click that resolved everything.

The only click that solved _anything_ , Leonardo Giovanni had learned long ago, was the click of the gun setting itself into place. The curled finger around the trigger, and the violent rush as the bullet escaped. Death was the only finite, the only finish. The past was not dead, but a living devil, and it had a bad habit of re-emerging at the most awkward of times.

Or so Guena had proved.

He sat on a child's bed, Guena besides him, a book spread between them. His hands were fists within fists, his chin was perched upon intertwined fingers, his eyes thinned to slits. He considered the contents, Guena's banter filling his ears and not lingering the slightest. Perhaps later he would understand, perhaps he could better comprehend this in solitude, perhaps he should now regret that it was only in isolation that he could truly think and feel.

So many unknowns, so many variables. He shook his head as if to clear it of all thought. But he wasn't thinking. For once he couldn't think. The only functions left to him were to register a numb ache in his chest and admit that he was tired. One glace at the pokeball shaped alarm clock on the child's nightstand jarred him back to reality. He had five minutes before Ash came home, not much of a time to escape, not much of one at all.

"I need to go, _now_." He snapped, twisting to his feet with an absent feline grace, he stood and approached the boy's window.

"You said if I told you..." Guena dared to stop him, not only with words but by bodily setting herself between him and escape.

"Out of my way, Guena. Unless you want to explain to your son about my presence, as well as-"

And she didn't move, she only stared at him. Proud in herself, in the life she lived, and the son she'd raised. Her gaze was a challenge, and he met it in confusion... than realization hit like a blow to the gut.

"You're insane." Giovanni snarled.

"He deserves to know."

"Well then I give you the pleasure of that revelation. I'm not interested. He's not mine; he's yours, and Will's. May you both find pleasure raising the little fool."

At his vehemence -or more likely at the sight of his clenched fists- she stepped aside. As he eased himself down out of the window Guena lingered by the sill, watching him with such obvious concern he felt a twinge of nausia touch his gut. With the skill of an experience cat burglar Giovanni eased down the flank of the house. His sudden drop half way down set the few bug type pokemon who were gathered around the unguarded flora to scattering. His boots would leave tracks in the moist earth, but both child and mother were such oblivious twits they'd overlook the marks and their significance.

Wasting a few seconds of precious time kicking at some post to better remove the fresh manure and mud from his shoes Giovanni finally decided his tracks were covered good enough. It would not due, after all, to track such distinctive muck in the presence of an officer. Law enforcement wasn't stupid after all; they just weren't as sharp as they thought themselves to be.

"Fury!"

With a flick of his wrist Viridian's ex-gym leader summoned one of his oldest and most trusted Pokemon. After the flash of light had died down a dun hued avian materialized. It looked at the moist earth with obvious disdain, but obediently settled itself in front of his trainer. The long beaked bird cringed a bit at the cold ground, clicked its beak in distaste, but overall the avian was still. Almost the size of a Ponyta, Fury was an uncommonly large Fearow. It looked first to the sky, then to its master with ruby hued eyes.

"We're leaving!"

With a squawk of acknowledgement Fury squatted, mussing his crest in the mud all so Giovanni could climb aboard. Once sure that it's master was firmly in place the bird kicked off the earth and with a triumphant screech. Soon to leave the Pallet behind.


	15. Chapter 15

Two Paths to One End

Regrets

 

The quiet wasn’t perfect, he’d woken up simply knowing the quiet wasn’t the same as the one he’d closed his eyes to. So he’d stirred, ignoring aches and pains, he was up and moving managing something like speed he tossed on yesterdays clothes sans coat and crept out of his own room with a pen light to serve as something to see by.

There, by the couch, there was something… someone sitting, but the dark…

Well the dark wasn’t an issue, a flick of the switch and it was little more than a memory.

“I suppose I should be worried, most sane normal people would be.” Smauel noted, tucking the light into his pocket and recalling now that he’d left Data by the computer… Well _in_ the computer. Still, as Leo would say, not smart. “But breaking and entering’s a bit of an old hat between the two of us, isn’t it?”

Silence was the response. But at least Leo’s head lifted from its fixed stare at the floor.

It was a start.

“Tea or coffee, and the only additives are going to be honey or sugar, so don’t ask.”

“The latter.”

And with that Samual knew it was going to be a long night.

XXX

They spoke little, sipping bitter revelation, each partaking it with a comfort tweaked to taste. Though the season was about as juxtaposed as possible Oak had a snippet of old holiday melody floating about his head.

_All is calm… all is quiet…_

It _was_ quiet. The hush so complete that the steam of their repast surely was audible. Some creature let out a cry, neither hostile nor pained, so Samuel didn’t bother to investigate. Tucked in the coziest chair, commandeering a corner, and by default the whole, Persian had ceased to pur. He’d slipped into the lull of a Hypno’s trade, twitching paws (glinting claws) telling of dreams uneaten. His ivory fur was stripped pearl, a painless discoloration that marked the path of Leo’s fingers as he’d taken to his oldest and perhaps more reliable form of comfort.

Ceding chair to pokemon, Leo had joined Sam on the couch and between them, the second cushion was their table of sorts, never mind risk of stains of spills due to the unstable fluff surface.

“She didn’t flat out say…” Oak murmured.

“Nothing overt.”

Both brilliant and heartbreaking and saying all too much. He both praised and grieved Delia’s decision and wished -even as he feared the sentiment- that he might have some hinting’s of the truth to give his old friend. But he didn’t. The boy took more after Delia than anyone; you could tally the features they didn’t share on one hand.

“I’m sorry.”

A noise, too formless to have sentiment, though Sam suspected scorn had something to the lot. But that was just experience meeting educated guessing. Rather than take insult with him Oak considered everything and decided not to comment.

“What will you do?“

“I don’t know.”

Truth hung between them, he’d spoken in monotone, alternating between stroking the feline and a near mumbling recitation of a truth too vast to make sense and too miniscule to mean much this late. Still, it was the small things that were supposed to matter most. Still, they shouldn’t have the power to break, but they could, Oak knew that. Five ounces of concentrated Nidoking venom, powdered, that’s all it had taken to poison over two hundred pounds of feed.

Silence returned, the floor was stared at while Oak simply counted beats of his heart, drink done and caffeine be hanged he was _tired_. There were no clocks, not in a room meant to unwind, and though the lights were on the night was hardly deterred by the scattering of lamps.

Finally silence was broken, a bird chirped, one alone, than another sounded. A look outside affirmed the sky was surly steeling itself for another day.

“How did you-“ Leo began, his voice, so fractured it had Sam alert and weary, and yes, there was a bit of red about the man’s eyes but what tears had been indulged had surly dried and possibly done before Oak’s arrival. Maybe, possibly. Leo had learned long ago to cry silently.

Still Oak wished that… Well, what he wished was many and varied and utterly impossible.

“We don’t talk. My daughter and I… we just… we _can’t_. I was and am a foolish man Leo, really I am. All titles to the contrary. I love her so much. But I love my work too and she’s… she needs to be the sole focus of someone’s love. She is such a jealous girl... I know she’s an adult, with children her own… but she still is and… And I’m babbling and I’m sorry but-”

“You always said it was complicated when I asked.” Leo whispered in a soft, fractured, voice. Looking pointedly outside, unwilling to see the other man’s tears, Leo groped and took up his glass. Maybe his glass. The first of the morning and lukewarm at best and saturated with sugar. Probably not his then, likely Sam’s. He partook it anyway.

“I love them.”

A sip and smile in steed of rage. Finishing what he didn’t taste Leo focused on the matter of color, of molten steel and strength’s allusion via illusion; he blamed his closest friend for the poetic turn of his mind.

“I think… I _think_ Gary cares… I hope _she_ does… but I don’t know.”

“I can’t even say that.”

“You know… I call, I call every day. She never picks up.”

Silence served for Leo’s commentary and in that quiet, Oak realized… Leo couldn’t call. Couldn’t even ask, or demand (because wasn’t that how he normally asked, and there was Sam sharing Leo’s bitter smile) for a DNA test, the one thing that would resolve everything. “I can’t help. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Sam.” Glass down in instability he turned from whatever outside so held his regard, idly steadying the cup so it wouldn’t fall. “I didn’t ask you if you could help. I knew you couldn’t even before I broke that window’s lock.”

“Then, what why-“ Realization came, and it stole words. There were tears, so said the burning about his eyes and Leo’s sudden interest in the flooring again. “Oh for Oh-Ho’s flaming… Leonardo Satoshi Giovanni just… _look_ at me. Please.”

Perhaps surprising them both Leo obeyed, with only a wince to tell his discomfort. Sure the man was looking and listening, Oak considered. What could he say, what should he say? Finally, because it was truth and varied but sincere he said all that was left to him.

“Thank you.”

A nod was Leo’s reply, but truthfully, Oak wasn’t expecting anything else.


	16. Chapter 16

Two paths

Chapter 16

Tracy came to an odd sight come morning. Two men, both familiar, both sprawled on the couch. Glasses and a few wraps from pre made sandwiches perused and consumed were scattered about, the reek of charred tea and coffee alleviated the traditional concerns someone might expect when you found two men sprawled together like that. The lack of bottles helped that dispelling along, so his   quick trip to the kitchen as he turned off the coffee burner and stove went without him rummaging for bowls or dragging the trash can back with him.

He did make a side trip to a side closet and pulling out two blankets set one over Oak’s scrawny frame.

The soft hiss of awakened Persian, and the Rocket who’d turned about a bit between passing through and lingering was enough to persuade Tracy to hesitate a moment before offering a similar kindness. Even when the man slept (possibly, maybe, it might have been his imagination but Tracy thought he caught a glimpse of dark about the lower edges of the man’s closed eyes) he just didn’t have the Professor’s vulnerability while clonked out…

He also didn’t have the professor’s taste in clothes, which were so gaudy as to be florescent. But still what kind of man slept in a business suit…

Still Tracy and his Lobunny slippers weren’t really in a place to complain about taste, he might have woken up one of the two if he had, so he didn’t.

Rather he considered. It wasn’t the man’s maybe opened eyes that decided him, or the obviously hostile Persian that’d have to be moved so he wouldn’t smother under the blanket, rather the concrete threat in the man’s hands. The glint of steel that when one peered about the fingers and the barest of nudges would push aside the fold of an open vest to reveal a gun, that’s what, decided him. That and how the sleeping man’s hand was clasped, even in slumber, about the trigger.

God, Tracy hoped the man wasn’t the type to nightmare. The consequences of a bad dream, a moments terror, and the fact that the gun’s nozzle was pointing outwards were worse than an accident waiting to happen.

Tragedy might have been the start of it.

Still, fear and worries and possible tragedies notwithstanding, Tracy considered himself a kind person, so for kindness’ sake he left the blanket of the rise of the couch. Near enough so Giovanni could reach for it without rising fully and far enough so he wouldn’t get his arm turned to hamburger by the hissing feline.

Satisfied all was as well as he could make it he raked a hand through his own dark locks and yawning got to going outside.

And nicely nullified all his previous kindness’ when he slammed the door behind him.

“Unnng too early… Tracy, answer the door!” So whined the greatest expert on Pokemon of the ages. Pulling blankets and part of his shirt up in order to better cover his head, Oak went back to sleep.

Cracking a small smile at the stupidity of it all Leo squirmed enough he could holster his gun then reached up and back, a tug got the blanket down and it was one of those thick smothering soft things. Near furry. Clearly set aside for a winter night when the power went out.

Still it had been a long night, and though hot the sensation of soft was enough that the man didn’t mind.

Persian did, so the lump that squirmed to couches’ edge to thud onto the floor proclaimed.

Closing his eyes, wordlessly deciding “too early” was more than apt (they’d only turned in an hour or so previous) Leo let slumber take him with the vague thought he was going to regret something sometime.

Considering how common that was it did nothing to coax him towards anything like coherent, and it didn’t even flavor the dark behind his eyes or the dreams thereafter.

XXX

They huddled about the kitchen’s sole island, an altar of coffee worship that Oak was hogging, allowing Leo the dubious honor of working about the man when he wanted to move about. Having been moved aside -first being kicked off of the island and being blurrily scolded for leaving his feet up by the groggy professor, then later shunted about while the man got his coffee making necessities in hand- Leo decided that that glint of bare steel at the end of a loose wire wasn’t going to be commented on. The ex-criminal kept his gaze on pages, leaning against the smooth wall, one leg bent sole of his shoe scuffing at the wall.

Petty, yes, but deserved.

“You’d think the boy would remember to put the coffee on when he stepped out.” Oak grumbled, hovering over said maker, waiting for percolation. Leo, who was simply doing without, flicked open the pages of his newspaper -another thing the thoughtless boy had left outside in his going- and got to reading. As per his norm it was the finance section that was open, unfortunately as Pallet was about as quaint as it could get he only had about a page to skim. “I swear, the younger generation…”

“Whenever I made my father coffee I used to lace it with poison.”

Blessed silence as Oak’s “times were better back when” was nicely derailed and Leo flashed his oldest colleague a look that said much and told so very little. The professor opened his mouth, closed it, then with a twisting of his face that screamed he really didn’t want to know but was curious, and decided that silence was the better route. Pages went up, one unsatisfactory section was traded for another. Considering Pallet only had one political party it went to say that the policies outlines had no counter points or opposition.

Leo supposed it was a sign of tranquility, of peace, the lack of conflict, but the petty dramas that had been between the lines of Viridian’s most “unbiased and balanced” papers had had some amusement factor and that lacking as well as his morning pick me up of consumable caffeine… Well he wasn’t going to be responsible for where his temper took him if things didn’t turn around.

Five minutes passed, the paper was folded a few times as the last bits and paragraphs were hunted amongst the ads. Done, if not satisfied, Leo set the lot to the trash. One throw, the whole didn’t make it, but Leo didn’t care.

“You need to get more newspapers, better quality ones than this local rag which I wager is delivered for free.” To that criticism Oak nearly bristled, but he _was_ missing his caffeine and a snarl from Leo’s part (reinforced by a hiss from the passing Persian) had prevented the kitchens sole radio from being turned on, another pleasure from Oaks’ day denied. Because of these discomforts, and the fact that Leo was imposing (had been since eleven last night) kept the Rocket from taking corrective steps on the older man’s conduct. “I’ll give you a list of suggestions, and pay, you’ll have to order though…” Considering, _everything_ that was obvious, but subtle was a foggy idea and one that wasn’t needed between friends. Or so Oak kept insisting.

Perhaps it was the hour, though well past dawn the morning light was still in force, and grogginess aside it seemed gentler than noon’s blaring rays. Perhaps he was inspired to try a kind of softness himself. It would be a mercy of sorts, and a truth, something Sam insisted was good for the soul.

“The machine,” The Rocket yawned. “It’s unplugged.”

Done, and willing to do without breakfast –or the scene of Sam scrambling about the kitchenette in a predictable quest to find the wire, to find the plug, to find that Leo was right and to accuse his friend of knowing all along- Leo saw himself out.

Or meant to.

Persian, who’d been watching their coffee shenanigans with a glint in his crystal eyes that said _I know something you don’t know_ , turned from them with a roll of his pearly shoulders. He stared at the door, from them to door, and then locked his regard on the entrance. The intensity of that stare caught Leo’s attention. A few moments later a sound reached the ex-Rocket’s ears, then Sam’s, and both were more than awake when the door burst open.

Soot smeared the boy’s shoulders, the origin of said soot was a scorched backside, a well applied fire attack had set the edges of the boy’s hair to smoking, thus was the state of Tracy Sketchit stumbled in and threw himself at his mentor.

“Fire… Zard.. got out of.. pen… torched part of the bug… Scyther…” The boy was shaking and smoldering and nearly crying. It was an interesting combination that was somewhat alleviated by Oak getting the boy to sit and fetching him a glass of water.

Kindness used up for the day Leo hummed a note under his breath. Persian soundlessly hopped down from his perch of chair and both slipped out of the kitchen.

“So Charizard got out again?” Oak clucked, like some old patriarch musing over the rashness of say some rebellious child skipping classes. Not a rampaging flying fire hazard who was milking double vulnerabilities for cheap glory. “Well he’s always been a bit of a fire brand. I’ll have get some of the water types and tend to the fires and I’m sure the grass types will love the opportunity to renovate the landscaping again…”

Beacon of sanity, from the younger generation mind, still it was hope that after Leo was dead the whole world wouldn’t go under in a wash of pure stupidity. “But.. he’s fighting everything in sight…”

Out of sight and thus out of mind Leo slowly pulled on the door knob, Persian milling about his feet, a pull and creaking from up high made Leo’s getaway less than clean. Resisting the urge to cringe, or stop, Leo simply pulled the door open, Persian bolted, proving he was the smarter of the pair.

Of course Sam’s: “Well if you’re that worried we _do_ have the world’s best pokemon trainer on the grounds. “   was enough to make Leo to linger. Ego kept the man in hearing shot long after Persian slithered into some tall grass; incredulous shock at the completion of the professor’s sentence planted his feet to the tiles and he couldn’t leave if he wanted to.

It took a moment, a long moment of Tracy looking up at him in shock and Leo trying to snap his jaw shut so it wasn’t hanging open like a fool’s before the Rocket could think. Much less speak.

Gathering his composure, and somewhat rumpled suit jacket from where he’d hung it over the back of a chair closest to the door, Leo didn’t say yes or no. But with the Arcanine eyes boring into him it took willpower not to flinch, or babble assurances that “of course he would" like the eager to please child he’d once been.

“I’m sure Leo is more than capable of exercising a rowdy Charizard.” Arcanine eyes and a wistful smile, Sam should have bottled it, he’d make a fortune. Hell, Giovanni would try to take over the company. “It’s a shame I don’t have squirtle anymore or I’d offer to help…”

Honesty was a painful thing. So were flaws, weaknesses, and honesty was both. But in that moment, grimacing at the bitter taste of the revelation, Leo had to admit it was that blatant disregard for life and limb that had drawn him and coaxed the ruthless entrepreneur to thoughtlessly protect the older man. It was part and partial of their dynamic, though Oak was blissfully oblivious to the fact even as he played on it.

To Tracy, who had that disquieting look of realization, Giovanni spoke, perhaps scaring off unwelcome revelation for a time.

“What part of the reserve?”

“Bug type… umm by the artificial lake near the dead poisoned tree.” Squirming under the unblinking regard of one of the world’s best trainers the boy babbled. “Murkkrow?”

Samuel flinched for both of them. Considering that Giovanni was back in control of his facilities he had to.

Leo wasn’t capable of such vulnerability.

“I’ll be taking Rhydon for a walk.” No inflection, the Rocket might have been noticing the state of the weather, or watching the body of a competitor being zipped into a body bag. “I’ll be in touch.”


	17. Smolder part one

Two Paths to one End

Chapter 17

Smolder part one

 

He’d walked through burning buildings, through buildings set to be burned; Rocket was not some slogan to lure in youngsters after all. He’d had his hands on a wide share of pyrotechnics and set fire to many places, and if it weren’t here and now he was surrounded by fire he’d have basked in those memories.

Contrarily enough, it was being near this fire, this carnage (though the bodies were mainly bug shaped, and not wholly dead as a few of them writhed as he stepped over them) that disallowed him reminisce. Bypassing another swirl of flame -a cyclone though small and chasing itself out- he acknowledged that this wild blaze was quite different from knowing how the fire was going to unfold.

A man who planned the path of flame was wise to be weary of unchecked inferno, one that as part thunder on high and malice driven besides, it made him wish he had indulged in training some frivolous water type.

Reaching out, he summoned Rydon with a negligent wave, the beast resolved with a flash of light and a rumble that was both vocal and the earth all but groaning under its steps. Unless there were pebbles involved, those crackles were akin to gun fire in pitch until a scraped step changed tenor and pitch.

Both looked up when the smoke smeared sky grew darker still and with a clap akin to thunder air parted to heat and mass. The roar of challenge was expected, and to that Giovanni set hands in pockets, legs braced against the earth rattling stomp. Not quite an earthquake, but nearly considering how the nearest pebbles hopped before settling back among smoldering grass.

Meeting the dragon’s blue eyes coolly, the Rocket smiled, almost benign in this moment.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve killed someone; I suppose I should be thanking you for the means to let off… some steam.”

The stupid beast clearly not a fan of puns roared, spewing embers and spittle so hot it sizzled. Scraping the edge of his smoldering shoe to damp the flame, he looked up only to be looking over the shoulder of his snarling, trembling, earth type. Only extreme concentration and training kept the beast from lashing its tail and accidentally sweeping his master off his feet.

One tap and the creature threw itself to the left, Giovanni took to the right, readying his gun in a few steps, rhydon scraped charred earth, not quite a boulder, but the throw was hard enough that the fire type lost his plans of flight. Shaking off sod and pebbles, a spat of fire singed off what remained, the charizard turned aborted flight to a wing sweeping charge. Beast of earth, beast of flame struck each other in a rush that left the concrete hued beast bracing its feet in furrows, a growl and twist of his knees set the stone behemoth to crouching and the enthusiasm the charizard’s charge, still fueled by wild wing beast, set the dragon up and over.

A barked order of "horn, hard right," was the only thing keeping ryhorn’s instinctual stab from ripping the fire types heart out as it passed over.

Shaking off the attack, blood splattering about its muzzle, earth type turned to trainer, not even flinching at the gun pointed in its general direction even as it went off, the bullet skimming a good ways up and over and by roar hitting its mark.

“If you think letting you get first blood in this fight means you’re earning last you’ve clearly forgotten our tally.” The Rocket scolded. “I’m not giving you any chance to reclaim the lead.”

The response to that was an abortive rock throw, made more or less laughable by the fact that pebbles and seeded ground was the norm rather than boulders. Still the charizard took the hit, snarling and spitting fire with much less malice as shock set in and the dripping blood began to translate to hurt and pain.

The fact that such were a shock told tales, of victories many and losses so few as to be nonexistent.

Arrogance of the weakest kind, easiest to strip away, the results after it was divested could be interesting.

Showing a flicker of intellect the creature flattened at the next shot, it didn’t get up quick enough to avoid the ground type’s attempts to trample him however. A few clawed kicks to his belly and back was fuel enough to get it to standing. With the use of writhing and wings, and certain snake-kin flexibility it managed to squirm both back and up. A tail sweep aimed up nearly took ryhdon’s eyes, considering it was flaming little wonder the ground type staggered back, paw raised in defense of one of its few weak points. Still the other rose higher, fisted, and only a stumble kept the dragon from being pummeled by the downward aimed punch that had broken boulders, walls, and in on spectacular get away an army tank.

Suffice to say the blow missing caused a problem and the earth all but ate rhydons clawed limb, almost up to the shoulder.

Again, that hinting of intelligence, instead of pushing an advantage that wasn’t, the beast spat smoke and steam. Long neck swaying, a wing sweep enveloped Rocket and is beast in the fumes. A few more -frantic quick-told them their prey was going towards gone, and clearing vision gave them few hints as to where it had flown off to hide.

Still his orders hadn’t been to kill; holstering his gun Leo remembered that with a frown. Capture, nor containment, nor killing, simple the cessation of the attacks had been Sam’s veiled request. Fangs gnashing the grey beast braced legs and arm, one roaring rise and earth split, freeing limb and crumbling back into a place to the hole was more or less not there anymore. It hadn’t waited as others might of, for recall and thus easy release by way of pokeball. The near teleportation of such might had been an option had either cared to think about it.

As it was Leo put his gun away and was considering trails of blood, finally the reek of burning and the heat as well as the lack of clear trail decided him.

The rouge charizard was gone for now, done with its juvenile reign of terror, and unlikely to start up another one any time soon. That would serve.

Speaking of serve…

“I’m heading back,” Leo flicked a gaze to rhydon, who was scraping off the film of ash and sand that had gathered among the seams of his scales with a sharp claw. The beast looked up from its grooming, startled, but then it was rare master spoke to beast unless it was orders.

The Boss only spoke to Persian.

They knew that and he knew that, thus the offer (inspired by Sam, never mind the man wasn’t there, he’d complain if this wasn’t offered, this so called kindness, thus he did, tough the words were sticking in his throat thicker than the smoke) once said it was considered then dismissed with a head shake. Snout twisting into the approximation of a smile (a snarl sans noise, they’d all learned that from him he supposed) rhydon pointed a gritty claw to the sky.

Murder was on the beast's mind. Considering the carnage… well it was justified.

And though redundant, he said now as he had from the first.

“Be quick, don’t get caught, and report back regardless about sun down.”

A nod and rumble and the beast wandered off, snout fixed to sky sniffling as if to catch the scent of something ever burning.  More then sick of ash he picked a path about the burning, more weary in leaving then coming considering the toes of his left foot were exposed and by the feel of each step were going to need medical treatment of some kind before the day was over.

 

 


	18. Smolder part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per my chapter summery/notes: In which Ash learns the consequences of owning a rampaging Cahrizard... part one.

Two paths to One End

Chapter 18

 

The mix of ash and bitter was a ghost so subdued it didn’t even trigger warning bells. Only a moment’s thought of “someone should have opened a window before letting Oak cook” then nothing else occupied him as he picked his way through grounds so familiar he didn’t think of his route. So familiar that he knew it was alight to leave his shoes on (never mind what Mom said).

As he wended through rooms (greeting area lead to psudo lab/kitchenette, the most familiar, to a hall sideways about that lead to out) a push on the sliding doors –leaving it open a crack to get the smell towards gone- and he was on the misplaced deck that Ash used to think might have been part of a pirates ship or something. It was so wooden and brown where the rest of the professor’s house just _wasn’t._

Busy looking up and clearly not aware of anything save what was up Ash looked up too. Trying to sneak (on tip toe, the best) he spotted the speck, a quick look showed the professor to be working on some sort of device on his hands, boxish and vaguely resembling a gaming system he’d seen somewhere sometime. There was a dot on its screen two, or rather it’s top most screen, the bottom screen that had taken place of controls and knobs was scrolling numbers so fast Ash couldn’t tell tails from heads.

Curiously the smell was stronger here, more bitter then burnt, and though the professor didn’t look down the way he set his shoulders told him he’d been… well if not seen then heard and if not heard then sensed.

“Hi professor.”

“Hello Ash.” Clicking on buttons that weren’t the professor wave up and the speck spun a bit always but was still just a spot. Distracted wasn’t the word, but despite being busy the man seemed happy, so it was fine. “How are you and Pikachu doing today?”

“We’re doing good, went out, shopping, Mom needed stuff you know.” Then though it wasn’t asked he added. “’chu got ambushed by Persian, he had ketchup packets so I figured they were going to play nice.”

A chuckle, the man looked down and after a final wave that sent speck to spinning off to a spot beyond sight. A click and a “progress save, please wait to turn off” screen appeared. It’d been the only thing to make sense today. Mom’d sounded sort of off when she’d told him she’d gotten a call from the ranch for him to go over immediately, but even though he’d been quick the professor didn’t seem any rush. Curiously the smell of burning was a bit stronger, ignoring that and the quibble of worry the young trainer bounced in place while device was turned off and pocketed.

“Sooo…” Because the man wasn’t looking at him so he could be a little silly and who’d care, he bounced in time with some theme song he half recalled. “Mom said you needed help with something?” A dreadful thought stilled his hopping. “It… it wasn’t the fence and the tauros again… was it?”

“No, it wasn’t the tauros herd.” Slipping hands into his pocket Oak tried a smile that looked both strained and pained. Mild worry crept up a notch and stole his smile while it was at it. “I thought you said you got your charizard to ah… settle down?”

Oak never could do stern, it sounded more apologetic for bringing up something awkward then scolding, still Ash winced even though it was possibly the lamest calling out he’d gotten. Ever. Even that one calling out where Mom had been giggling through the scolding because even though he’d gotten Gary with blue ink he’d been gotten back. With a gummy red ink that had turned the pinkest pink of pinkdom once it’d been soaped. Scuffing a foot over wood, Ash swallowed because even though Oak sounded lame his look wasn’t. It was worried, and so adult that the young trainer found himself channeling his four year old self.

“Well I got him to stop flamethrowering people, sorta.”

A raised eyebrow and long long look told him to tell how, without words.

“I might of used a squirt gun, a lot of them, kinda like… Well being burnt hurts.” obviously considering the professor smelled like char he knew that, still the stupid things wouldn’t stop coming out of his mouth. “And fire types don’t like water, so it was a… Well kinda a “see if you like it?” sort of thing? Except his tail, I wasn’t aiming for that ever. Anyway, he didn’t. And he hasn’t tried to burn me in a long while after,” Had he let him out of the pokeball after though, Ash tried to remember and found he couldn’t, his face was warming with unsaid confession as he pushed on, “so I transferred him over since that’s sort of good. For him.” Oak didn’t say anything, still that disappointed sad look squeezed the last of his confession out in a rush. “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Ashton Satoshi Katchem your Charizard went on a rampage through the bug type preserve.”

“Oh, he lost to Scyther again didn’t he?”

“Yes- he um… That isn’t the point.” Bushy brows meeting together in an attempted scowl the older man sighed. “You understand… that if this had happened in a public venue and it hadn’t been wild pokemon he went after that there would have been substantial fees and the revocation of your license at best?”

Silence as warning made impact onto the child’s mind. Oak’s hands joined device in his coat pocket, well the right one did, the other found the left coat pocket and made itself at home as Ash shivered from a chill not of wind or dark. Because it was nearly windless and the sky was high, not quite noon but getting there, and cloudless too.

Still Ash felt cold and wished his lucky league outfit had pockets, or a coat. He wouldn’t have minded a coat right then.

“I believe that this is yours?” A hand returned, holding a familiar pokeball dug out from depths of a really deep pocket. “And I think you know what you need to do?”

Numbly Ash took what was offered. Nonsense came to him. He didn’t know about gardening, and charizard loved to cook the ground when he was pulling a tantrum.   How could he fix the grounds? He’d have to run home, to get all his burn heels because what if the Pokémon the professor had used had gotten singed? And he’d need Squirtle too if there were fires.

He babbled that, or something like it. It came out jumbled in his own ears, still Oak listened and heard because that’s what professors did. And though he smiled it wasn’t warm, just so so sad it made Ash want to shrink into himself, into the ground, and just melt away.

“Ash, I’ll deal with the damages, and I don’t need your burn heals… The ones who got burnt… they don’t need them.”

Protest bubbled on the tip of his tongue, then died, understanding came and he blinked. Blinded by burning behind his eyes he shoved Charizard’s pokeball in his pocket blindly then had to save it from a fall (and them from a visit by irate dragon) because he recalled a moment before fall that he didn’t have pockets.

“I’m sorry.” Because though it was an accident, he hadn’t meant too, never would have, _ever_ if for a second…

“I know that son, it’s…” Not alright, not that. “It’s complicated.” Confession was said wryly, then with something like firmness mixed with grief. “It can’t happen again. The league would demand an investigation, perhaps push for euthanasia for the untamed.” A moment, when Ash’s breath hitched and he fiddled with the red and white contraption in his hands until his hands felt steady. It passed, probably many moments had, but the professor was patient, and not angry, a wonder in itself.

Shouldn’t the man be angry, because he was hurt, wasn’t he?

“I…” He wasn’t a bad trainer, and there weren’t bad Pokémon… so what was this then? Mouth opening and closing Ash said nothing and again both waited, finally. “I don’t know what to do.” There were tears about confessions edge. “None of the others…” The chill was back, he wound his arms about himself trying to ward it off.

His ‘mon were friendly, as harmless as any Pokémon could be, at least nearly all of them. Those obvious truths lingered, unsaid. Clasping his student’s shoulder, some shadowed thought flicked over the professor’s face, perhaps his burns hurt, and it was during that worry filled thought that touch had become a hug. His world was white coat, the man’s shoulder against his cheek, with soot and medicine bitter. The man’s grip while not strong was enough that he leaned, and cried, because all those could-of-beens flashed behind his closed eyes and it was too much.

Except Oak was holding him up, not letting him fall, not letting it _be_ too much.

They broke apart, only when the sniffles stopped, Ash sheepishly wiped his face with a hand. Oak probably realizing why his coat was so heavy shoulder wise peeled his coat off. But not before pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket and passing it his way.

“Come on in Ash, we’ve a bit to talk about I think.”

Then Oak was leading him in, numbly Ash followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially I was going to have Gio do this but considering his issues with Delia and his lack of scruples he kept crossing lines that I really didn’t want him to cross in this fic, after a few rewrites and some inernal wrangling I decided to foist showing Ash the consequences of his actions via Oak… because I really didn’t like the canon’verse route in dealing with the Charizard issue (and also how long it took) and after the last chapter it /really/ needed to get resolved.


	19. Smolder part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not to sure if Rocket Cell 13 is fanon or canon, but it's code name for Jessie, James and Meowth's unit.

Two paths

Chapter 19

 

It was the incredulous site of psudo Pokémon Master armed to the teeth (and dripping profusely about the edges) that made Leo lift his head from the papers. Five newspapers, “rather dry” per Sam’s opinion, all financial based and quite obvious a bribe considering they went well beyond the budget he’d laid down and the money he’d put forward towards them had been returned and untouched.

They were his favorites, well three of the five were, the other two were good tries.

Perhaps it was the effort that had kept him from ignoring Sam’s edict to leave the child alone when the visit had occurred. Nursing stinging blisters and sunburn of an unnatural slant he’d been ordered to rest up in one of the guest rooms, and thus had followed those orders. Pain always made him terse and he reading had distracted him from what pain it could. Thus while not happy he’d been content to ignore the tauros footed brat as he’d trooped about, the mumble of conversation was beyond his hearing range and likely to be both sappy and mired in emotion.

Neither were his specialty, and considering just who the brat’s parents were he’d simply tried to sleep and found a few hours later to his shock he’d been successful.

It was only the fact that Sam had provided a number of back issues from the time of his “death” to the present that he’d had enough material to keep him busy and thus out of the child’s hair. It’d been a week, one blessed week of no visits, peace and quiet, and as such he’d been lured upon the familiar ambitious porch that he would have sworn was commandeered from some port side town’s wreckage if he hadn’t had access to the Ranch’s records.

The fiasco of miscommunications, financial squabbling, and some misplaced malice had panned out into the wooden span which to Sam’s horror hadn’t matched. Having come out after receiving a rather flustered call he’d viewed the atrocity, found it fitting, and had refused Sam’s blatant request that he pay to tear it down and put in something that matched. After a while and a few attempts to paint it over failed (the wrong colors kept being delivered, it’d been petty but then calling him in about a crisis only to find it a mere decorating quibble had been beyond petty) Sam had simply gotten used to ignoring it which is what should have happened in the first place.

As it was Giovanni had a fondness for the place and unfortunately it was fondness the brat shared. He hadn’t felt deprived, but having the place back and his and in silence was a blessing. His folding chair was red and black and tasteless per Sam’s moral criteria but considering the man wore Hawaiian floral shirts under his coat regularly he obviously had no style so his point was ignored, it was also comfortable, with enough give to allow him lazily ease back and read at a near sprawl that would likely end in back pain later.

But for now he was comfortable, reclined, and very much inclined to stay in such a pose, at least until the brat had trooped up equipped with enough fake weaponry to make an enthusiast drool in longing.

Persian, looking up from his regular spot of commandeering his lap a furry cheek resting on an orange panted leg, let out a low hiss. To that Leo set aside papers and slid his shades up enough so his eyes were visible. Curiosity almost caused him to just ask but he squashed the juvenile impulse. Words weren’t necessary, he simply let some of the malice he felt for the child be seen and watched as wordlessly (and pikachulessly, curious that) as the boy went along the deck then down the steps that lead into the reserve.

A few moments later when the boy’s Squirtle followed after its trainer, also sopping, and sporting a translucent tank like apparatus on its back filled with water. Leo told himself he was not curious, he lift the pages up and pretended the wet spots were not there. When Sam complained he’d blame the child for the mess and that was that.

It was the exhausted “chu” made him stop pretending to read altogether.

He blamed Persian and the normal type’s unhealthy attachment for that curiosity, as it was Persian half rose and murred at the odd sight, thus giving Leo all the excuse he needed for looking up.

Similarly armed, and pushing a water bottle almost as tall as he was, the yellow rat seemed a parody of archaic punishments favored in the afterlife of cultures long gone. All that was missing was an incline.

As it was the creature, after much struggling, found a decline and with a relieved “Pi!” pushed one of its burdens down before hopping after it.

His gut told him this was some starting point of something so incredibly stupid and juvenile it might very well cost thousands of dollars to resolve. It was a pedestrian child’s plot bound to go over the line from recklessness to an insanity that would make billionaires cringe…

To phrase it as Sam had once, his criminal sense was tingling, that infernal niggle that had kept him out of a cell for decades and kept his enemies more often than not in the morgue.

The boy wasn’t a Rocket of their level of ineptitude, but this had the feel of a Rocket Cell Thirteen screw up written all over it.

“Sam,” he hollered over his shoulder, Persian hopped off his lap without protest, his tail bushy and up. Clearly he wasn’t the only one sensing something off. “I’m going to be training in the reserve for a bit, watch my books.”

Because no matter what he owed Sam he was not calling it “Light literature”. Ever. If he did Persian had orders to promptly poison him then hide the antidotes.

“If you see Ash remind him to put on some sunscreen, considering he’s going out to train his fire type-“

The rest didn’t register, Sam’s hen pecked monologue was washed out in a rush of horror then simply in a rush as the Rocket Boss took up the painfully easy trail of water spots. Persian, all silence and silver in the sun’s light took the lead, his trainer only a few steps behind.

 


	20. Smolder part 4

There were trails of water, a wrenched open water tanked, and bits of bright shiny shrapnel that ranged from sharp (as its name implied) to molten and imbedded into the heat hardened earth. Sprawled, supported, by a stone, a dazed squirtle, soaked and bearing cuts of broken water wear. To its credit it had shrugged off the worthless water weapons and had attacked with a hydro pump the second it’d seen its trainer scramble back from a flaming tail swipe. The dragon’s responding earthquake had entangled the tiny turtle post impact, or rather the shockwaves had tossed it about just so that its limp limbs had flopped in all the right ways. The rock bracing its shell had likely contributed to its possible concussion and present state of unconscious. The vibrant purple bump to its head attested that it was definitely going to hurt like hell in the morning .

Idle thought assailed him even as he smoothed what few wrinkles marred his suit, perhaps the creature was part psychic (or possessed of the skill pain split) because Leo was definitely harboring a headache...

There was fire everywhere, and a few trails of water made tracks of mud of the ashy earth, as for Ash, he hung limp in earthen paws and was dropped then stepped over. Perhaps it was the threat that had short circuited his mind (as it was Delia’s brat, such softness was to be expected, she’d frozen, shaken by the merest raising of his voice) but more likely it was the application of asphyxiation that had dragged the boy under. Savoring the silence, or rather the lack of inane babble, Giovanni grunted. That was enough, Rhydon tipped his horned head back, then seeing the unspoken order let the boy down.

It wasn’t gentle, but the brat wasn’t dead, that would just have to do.

Ahead, spewing flame and defiance, dancing a dragon’s of ruination and utterly unseeing besides Charizard scarred earth and set the Persian who had been blurring the scarlet of its hide (trails of blood ran across reddest of scales, only the light, the angle, a glisten and dip told where wounds differed from flesh) scrambled back. Though his paws were toasted Persian was silent, never one to needlessly yowl. There was death promised in those near translucent eyes when it glared back at the smirking lizard who still didn’t _see_. Blinded by a victory that wasn’t done yet. The brush against earthen beast’s leg and mew told Rhydon the cat was clear. The other caress against its trainer’s leg was unnecessary but then Giovanni never really understood why Persian did what he did.

Though dragon and possessed of wings as such were, the flaming lizard was not possessed of the sense as to when to take to the sky. Thus the warning, a moan from protesting earth which set the remaining pidgy population to fight, went ignored. The stupid beast braced its feet and glared the Rhydon down as if expecting a charge. Well there was something of a charge’s impact, stones set to flight, and tremors that made the beast all the more susceptible to falling kicked up.

Having lived through a few earthquakes in his time Leo scarcely stumbled, simply bent down and dragged Delia’s brat out of the way as he retreated from the first small black line at Rhydon’s feet. Blackness widened, line to gash, gash to onrushing fault. Earth broke away as tremors and pressure revealed a hollow. Luck of the draw, there was of some long abandoned cave under their feet. It could be said that earthquake evolved into fissure, orders unneeded.

Wings flapped, sky sought too little too late. Mere inches up, indulging a hover before flight, the earth refuted flight. A maw of stone wrought of pressures beyond imagining that caught the beast in an inescapable vise. It flailed, beating the warped earth with small arms, whipping up sand as it tried to keep flying never mind reality.

“You really _are_ unobservant.” Leo drawled, to that beast snarled at him, but perhaps something like intelligence had caught in the wasteland of its mind. It didn’t try a flamethrower, or other stupid shenanigans. It also wasn’t dying, a half circuit, daring the pits edge, told the Rocket why.

Lucky again, the tail was unsmothered, its tip a flaming echo to its outrage.

Roaring, arms pounding, the parallels of a child throwing a temper tantrum were unavoidable. Still, as Leo completed his slow cycle about the pit’s edge, curiously noting how it had indented then rose again to make a volcano of sorts sans lava unless once consider it’s decoration as such, Leo smirked. Amusement of a darker breed stoked and the response was typical.

Rhydon didn’t have to be told what to do. He defended his Boss in the best way possible. The chucked rock was more a boulder than anything else, it was pleasantly sharp, thus the satisfying crunch and tear of a wing being destroyed made him smile so wide it hurt.

Roars became screams while Leo considered his find. The arms were small, not short, but anthropoid. Used to bare minimum over a lifetime, evolution aside it was a sign of overindulgence of the wings. Those, those were impressive, though wrecked the development on them was solid enough that despite the injuries the beast might be a champion flyer again.

He weighed pros and cons, a groan of pain from behind recalled him to his morals, or rather the morals that Sam would champion. Decision reached he recalled Rhydon who dispersed in a rush of red light, alone, as much as he ever was he nodded. Dispelling the golden glow of a protective field, an aura that out preformed both screens of light that psychics so favored, Persian quit sky and suspended leap that had shielded him from Rhydon’s earth rending activities. Skidding across ashy ground he arrested motion with claws and a bit of frantic backpedaling. Once assured he was on solid earth the scramble was abandoned and he was as he ever was. The picture of elegance as he padded up to his owner.

Smirking, for perhaps more than one reason, Leo tipped his head to the shaken creature sheathed in stone.

“Persian, power gem.”

Red tinted stones, a deluge of pseudo rubies, shimmered into being about Persian’s head, a crown never claimed by a few inches of air and impossibility. One moment, perhaps to savor said moment, then with the toss of his head and thought (all malice and purring and ever so smug, Persian’s couldn’t smile, but never mind Sam _his_ did) and the stones flew. Flew and struck and the beast slumped in its earthen bounds beaten unconscious by the barrage.

He half bent, the creature half rose, setting paws on his thigh, a scratch or five, then he released, and though claws pricked his leg it was as close to defiant as the feline ever got with him. A quick few steps, back and about edge, and he nudged the boy over, a near kick, more guess work than anything (the most charred of the lot turned the trick) and the beast was recalled. Not his, no one’s obviously, but for now Leo decided ownership was simply a matter of opportunity taken.

So he’d take this opportunity and see where it went.

A quick pat down showed the young idiot to be without phone and considering the state of his… Leo snapped up the boy’s hat a quick brush over the ground would tell something of location to the observant, as for the rest, well the boy had a receipt of some type in his pocket, a pen from his own pocket and a quick note which he tucked into the folded hat would be enough. A few words and Persian was on his way, unusual message in tow.

Or in mouth.

Both fit, or so the saying went.

Finding a rock uncharred was an effort, the beast has scorched miles it seemed, still sitting on something not coated in embers was its own reward, and as for fussing with the ashy paw prints on his leg… Well that was necessary. If nothing else he knew Persian would take a quick stop over to the water type reserve to give his paws a swift dip.  They were something of a matched set after all, and it wouldn't do to break expectations so late in the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is something of a tribute to my old team from the silver/gold themed tournament. I use to pair up a Persian and a Ryhorn (Or a Nidoking) with a similar move set in duel competitions.


	21. A discussion:  Hope

Two Paths

Chapter 21

“I’m growing weary of you criticizing my team, Sam.”

It might be a bit to call a compassionate speech that had lasted five minutes a “criticism”, Considering that Sam had been yelling and incoherent for spans of his speech it could have also been considered a stretch to call the lot a “speech”. Emotive inarticulate seemed contradictory, and a bit insulting considering both their intelligences. Still if the name fit the subject...

Hands in their respective pockets Leo leaned against the door frame. More in than out but placed to leave quickly if needed. Or if he wanted. Which he was starting to because Sam just didn’t know when to stop. Persian prowled about them both, at first simply rubbing and mewing for scritches which both men absently granted. During a rather dull crescendo on Sam’s part though the normal type had wrinkled his little black nose and wandered off. A few squeaks and thuds from floor about told them both he was investigating the various cabinets. A perfect picture of indifference he did one circuit and then bounced up to the counter to try prying open those little roll out drawers that ever lab must have.

A few were locked, but nimble claws and a few moments of effort made that a moot point.

Oblivious as always, or perhaps not quite, a grim glare over the shoulder did catch the feline riffling through a miscellaneous nick-knack drawer. The venom in the look was enough for Persian to set aside the slinky and close the drawer behind him. The second the man pinned that look upon Leo the drawer was slowly squeaked open and the metal clink a link told both that some sort of play was going on.

They were, quite alone, the swarm of aides, a step up from interns, they were paid for one, and most sported degrees, multiple degrees were more common than not, had cleared out. As had the medical personnel who’d declared Ash “Bruised and shaken but fine”. Thus on the level above was Ash, napping, the brats mother in a hovering attendance, and a comatose Charizard whom Leo had quickly recalled into his pokeball. Neither counted, or had to be hidden from, thus they were as far as Leo was concerned non entities in this conversation.

As for the other questions, why they lingered though Ash was given a clean bill of health… the woman did drive after all so it wouldn’t be impossible for them to just leave… the familiarity they had exercised in taking a spare bed room above…

Though curiosity might be there, and keep them existing in the corners of his mind, Leo was not going to risk a conversation with _Delia_ to satiate idle thoughts.

He had a more reliable information in front of him anyway, and would ask when things were back to normal.

As for the building silence, it was the calm, a precarious span that he was not going to risk detonating with assumptions and erroneous judgment. Though his patience was being devowered by the strain filled quiet, this juvenilely waiting game he did not dare break the silence. Sam’s “Well? Explain yourself!” went commented upon as the man wordlessly tensed waiting for the threats (of exile, death really though the gentler man would never guess that. Could never guess it, such was outside his character). Fists aching form pressures being wrought he longed to hit something. None in this room were acceptable targets, and storming up to the too familiar woman and her whining ward weren’t an option.

Too much collateral, no way to hide the evidence, plus… well between his Mother and Sam he was tamed enough not to risk killing immediate family. Though Delia may have broken her vows Leo had not. Would not.

Accidents might happen, in due time, it would simply hinge upon how other developments panned out.

“Rhydon… was the only viable option considering how dangerous the child’s Charizard is. I don’t take that kind of chance.”

“You own a _cloyster_ for mews sake!”

To that accusation Leo considered. He could lie, it’d paint him in a better light, but Sam could count and though angry wasn’t _that_ unobservant. And even if his observation were lacking… well the man had a keen memory, and intuition, all it’d take would be inspiration or a mental review and…

Thus though the truth was such a damned frivolous thing he indulged the older man’s morals, ground out the words between grit teeth. “I.. forgot.”

Surprised, the older mouthed the younger’s word, and groaned, putting hands over his face.

“Leo…”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me!”

“No… no… I” Voice high pitched (the familiar sound of laughter being smothered) the professor scraped his hands over his long face, leaving the top of his head looking like a rumpled bird’s nest. The man was obviously fighting for composure, or perhaps a straight face, and most likely a point of sanity in this mess. “We aren’t old enough for well… memory problems of that caliber yet, are we Leo?”

Though it could have been taken as jest Leo knew his friend well enough to be serious when he replied. “No, as far as I know heart problems are the only genetic issue from my father’s side. Cancer was on my mothers, but last I checked those genes are not active. The only _problem_ is that I haven’t had a water type in my party in almost fifteen years.” To the curious look Leo snorted. “They’re frivolous, and playful, do you know how irritating that can get? I have an image to uphold.”

The creek and thunk of something insulated being forced open made both men look up. A mew, with echo, all tinny considering it was a very deep refrigerator, and Persian was half in, sniffing around budding freezer burn and metal coiled shelves as he looked for something. Ketchup most likely.

“Image can be quite difficult to uphold.” And damn the man Sam’s voice was definitely filled with smothered laughter, some which broke free and was muffled by a rather shady cough when Persian looked up at them, ice obscuring he gem on his brow.

“Mer…er…er… burr?” Fangs chattering, Persian didn’t have to look pathetic, he already was.

“Checkup time?”

Leo groaned, and nodded. At his call Persian considered fridge then master then the white clad human who was riffling through a drawer that’d been opened. The nasty one, with needles and other sharp things. Decision reached he turned on his paws and into the cold letting the door click shut behind him confident there was an out on the other side.

A muffled scramble later and it was opened, and no there wasn’t another out, so Persian bound his shivering self out into the suddenly toasty lab and tried to make himself small. But then his master knew that trick, and though ice slicked got his scruff in one try. Biology did the rest, and he hung limp, save for shivers, and a pathetic aura of pathos that the feline tried to weaponized.

Since he wasn’t let down, except on the table, Persian decided to try another aura next time, and that biting the hand that fed was more than justified. A snarl, less words then murderous intent that was soon to slip the leash, stopped a second bite before it began. It took two hands to hold the shivering, rebellious feline, and though one was bleeding both did their job while Sam padded off to some counter. The whirl and ding of a microwave going off was broke off when the timer ticked down, warm towels smelling of popcorn and freeze heals were presented. Cloth scraped against fur, heat and chemicals, never mind the additives, worked off ice and pushed off numbness without the fireless burn of frozen flesh being revived. Once the top was done the white cat was inelegantly flipped to one side, some squirming and towel rubbing later and the other side was revealed. Unmelted ice fragments blended with fur, near perfectly, only differentiated by how they glinted.

“Sam, just how cold was that freezer?’

“It held ice type blood samples. Anything above freezing-”

“I’m a gym leader, I know about the types.”

Calloused hands pinned the howling cat and though it went against type the kick that was attempted when the towel scraped over unspeakable regions was definitely double. Luckily for both men it missed. Black from under the claws splattered on the floor. More than familiar with what that meant Leo wrapped the creature’s back legs with a towel, though it wouldn’t stop the kicks long. “Anti-venom kit, now!” Leo barked, being so much as grazed by one of those claws was a heart attack waiting to happen.

Luckily for them both Sam only had to reach under the exam table, the door had small cabinet had been left ajar from the felines previous play. Tossing the lot on the edge, risky that, but riskier letting the twisting bundle of chilled an irate feline to roll into the kit and thus become pricked by the needles and possible dossed with medicines he didn’t need.

“If you could get his paws I can apply a sedative.”

“Mix it with a hyper potion,” the reasons behind the thrashing was becoming obvious as the feline struggled despite his master’s presence.   Pink and red were appearing in splashes where ice had once been, though the freeze had been stopped in time to prevent major tissue damage something had reacted with the burn heals and was causing enough damage to enrage the normal type.

Clearly unseeing, the Persian twisted about, scratching at nothing, taking what opportunity Leo slipped behind his pokemon and pinned forepaws to Persian’s chest with one arm, and though it was an effort he locked the hind with his other arm.

“Any time now would be good.” A clink and rattle told him Sam was mixing something. Once squirms and efforts to climb up had been dissuaded by constriction the normal type tried guile. The head butt, poorly aimed with most of its momentum killed by the fact that the creature wasn’t meant to aim up like that hit his chin, made his teeth click together and had he been a younger man he’d of been swearing up a storm. As it was he wasn’t and didn’t. The knowledge that it could have been his tongue that was severed rather than his face bruised kept his mouth shut despite the pain.

A presence behind, familiar, Leo shifted and Sam slipped the sedative into the cat’s shoulder. One moment, two, the kicks slowed, a groan mixed with a mew that could have been pathos inducing if his face didn’t hurt so much. Finally the cat was still, slumped, Leo took a moment to nudge the feline into a more centered position. This hiss of aerosol and scent of medicine was enough to tell Leo his part was over.

One step back, a stagger really, and he let himself sit. There were chairs about the labs stratagetically placed between tables and wall, on the arm of his chair was something a bit more than mere strategy.

“You’re too cautious Sam,” still, despite his protest he downed the vial’s content, wincing as the reactionary headache hit and told him the man probably was being cautions enough.

You only got the reaction if there were poisons affecting the body, some of the aches and pains from the scuffle dimmed, warning that he’d been experiencing some symptoms and ignoring them. Not one to tell Sam such, the man would never let it go, he waited and watched. Treatment of ‘mon was a rather mundane procedure, baring extreme injuries, or internal ones the medicines were nearly all topical, sprays and gels ere predominant for everything save infection.

Looking up from his work, smiling, pleased, so odd he was used to seeing the expression as smug…   Shaking his head, more to banish the rambling edge of his own thoughts Leo said nothing, simply leaving Sam to his simple pleasures. Done, a glance confirmed the expected -that Persian was settled and safe- the Rocket nudged the chair besides his own with a booted foot. Sam took the wordless invitation, reclining as he usually did when not expecting company or interruption. Long legs spread before him, arms loosely draped over the arms. Leo had mimicked the pose, save one arm was set about his waist, fingers mere inches above his gun’s holser, pivoted towards the door rather than some imaginary vista Oak was favoring.

“Again, Sam, what the Hell was in that fridge.”

“Ice blood samples, no one’s ever directly applied ice heals to the stuff.” A groan, anti-venom was fished from a deep pocket, the mixture was quaffed with a grimace. “I suppose a bad reaction would make sense… I’m not a biochemist Leo.”

“I thought you knew ice types.”

To that expected barb the man laughed, shook his head. “We just discovered them _how_ many years ago? It’s all new ground considering that type was confirmed to be separate from water, something no one believed. Oh there are legends of course, but I haven’t seen someone stroll through my doors with one for me to study. And you know the protocols; a type isn’t officially a type unless it’s found as a standalone.” To that admission Leo grumbled, he’d been at subtle loggerheads with the league about ground types since most of his specialty were mixed with rock. It’d taken years, as well as some assistance from Sam, to stop them from trying to strip his gym as well as his badges from him due to that damn overlap clause. “Though Lorelei might claim she was the first ice type trainer but she really specialized in water types.”

“Ah yes the elite four scandal.” The Rocket chuckled, anger lost in pleasure of a not so kind slant. “Lance dropped her fast enough when her fraud was deduced by that aid of yours. Can’t believe the girl had the guts to take that _woman_ down in public.”

“On national television.” Sam smiled. “I didn’t know who gloated more, you or me.” To Leo’s expression the man defended himself. “I’m allowed, every now and then you know.”

“But when I do it its cruel?”

“I stop at words.”

Recalling certain papers that had conveniently published certain analysis of ice types that had been used in the trial that had followed the young scientist’s accusations… Well words had been ruinous for one trainer at least.

“I.” Oak ground out. “Had to reclassify pokemon that had been locked into the wrong type not by accidental research leading to the wrong conclusions, or simply no research due to rarity, but from that over glorified popstars campaign to make herself look special.”

“The boy’s inept.”

Though a tangent it wasn’t wholly unrelated.

“He’s not an academic, he’s not a specialist. Consider how we’re taught and you’ll come to the conclusion that those are the only paths. We’re trained to accept that. He chose to defy that expectation Leo.”

Silence, save snoring, and it was really a wonder, Leo thought as he glowered at the table and said snorer, that he slept at all at night.

“You did the same.”

“For very different reasons Sam.” Sliding his hand up Leo picked at shredded sleeves he hadn’t even noticed. It was more miracle than matter that held everything together. “Delia…” Wasn’t a monster, for all her faults the woman was _not_ Raphael. He’d look into Will when there were less pressing matters before him. “wasn’t like _he_ was.” A smile, gimlet grim. “I also don’t preach friendship, love and joy with the creatures under my command. That’s the difference; I command and am obeyed… That boy… he suggests.”

“When you chose to leave, what made you pick who you picked?”

“Durability, adaptability, and yes a certain amount of viciousness. I’m a wanted man Sam, assassination isn’t totally off the table here. I need tools to defend myself.”

“Then why Persian? Because a psychic type could easily predict when you were in danger. Why not a fighting type? More muscle than Persian and well opposable thumbs, with some specialty training they could be as versatile as a human aide.”

Silence, in which Leo stared at Persian and said nothing, did nothing, even when Oak stood. A stumbling kind of stand that was stiff but not peppered with the audible popping most young people thought started at thirty five. He allowed the older man to take the empty anti venom vial off his hands, it joined Oaks in the sink, and though they weren’t going to be reused the man was fastidious enough to wash the lot out before throwing them away.

“He’s my starter.” The water turned off, and knowing what that meant Leo repeated himself.

“Doesn’t sound like a practical reason to bring him along. A dated tool isn’t a very good one.”

“Says the man with a porygon one engine.”

“Touché.” And though Leo didn’t look up he knew Oak was smiling.

Wiping his hands on a towel, Oak threw the lot away, a clink with something of a thunk, a resistant slucking as insulation fought against pressure. Another click and grumble about having to throw the whole lot, then decision reached he left ruination to refreeze on its own. Hopefully. He’d call an aide in the morning to toss the whole thing out and manage his budget a bit to accommodate getting another specialty refrigerator. And a lock, a good one that Persian hopefully couldn’t pick.

When he came back Leo was standing, besides Persian, where Sam expected him to be. Though he wasn’t stroking the normal types fur all one had to do was look about his fingers. A bit moist, proof of a wipe was used. For Leo it was rather sloppy evidence obscuration, and more than a bit silly considering… everything.

“You had similar problems I recall.”

“And I killed my problem, I’m tempted to off this one.”

Pulling out the _problem’s_ pokeball he tossed it to himself. One hand to the other. Perhaps hoping to inflict discomfort on the subject within Leo was neither gentle or slow in throwing Charizard about.

“He needs help.” Sam pointed out the obvious; the next toss was hard, possibly raising bruises on impact. The scientist winced a bit though Leo would never flinch. Hadn’t flinched when his own Machamp had broken his leg that long time back when he was a novice. That resolute lack of response had unnerved the creature long enough for Leo to shoot it in the head. “The league doesn’t help with this sort of thing anymore, the other gym leaders… well I’m disappointed in Blaine, he saw the problem but didn’t even offer.”

Silence, finally, when nothing seemed likely to be done, because Leo was like that, leaving silence and expectations and then just leaving, the other present was a recipient of nothing, not even consideration…

“You rose above your history once-”

“And look what that got me!” And never mind Persian, he slept, the drugs would keep him under, as for others… they weren’t a consideration save of how to be disposed of in that hateful moment. “Less then nothing! A few piddling years clinging to my life in obscurity. I don’t know when my last day will be, I’ve less tools now to ward it off than ever before! All my authority, my power, my wealth, stripped from me! Tell me Professor Samuel Oak, What. Have. I. Gained?”

There were a few answers Oak might of offered, piece of mind (obviously not, though the façade the ex-rocket had been holding up before that moment had made it seem that might of been), a future (though bare, and simplistic, so much so it rankled the man living it)hope (too elusive, Leo’d never accept such optimism). So he gambled, as he’d rarely done, because they didn’t know. Not him, or Leo, and that was rare that between them both them didn’t know, or couldn’t know. But here and now they didn’t.

Still it was something.

“A legacy, besides violence and that damned criminal empire you still covet.” And if there was anger, well Sam was allowed, as much as Leo was his. Neither short changed themselves with honesty, not when it mattered.

“You’d bring that brat into th-“

“I’m not talking about who his father is.” Sam snapped. “At this point it doesn’t matter. What Delia did... It doesn’t matter, it’s done. What we have, when we strip those facts is one thing, one chance, for you to be a better man than that whole league of...” Words failed, he flailed a bit in frustration at that failure. A few deep breathes, then with something like calm, “what we have here is a starting point.”

“Or an ending point.” Leos lips pealed back into a snarl. “I want nothing to do with-“

“With murder? Because that’s where this is ending.” The man was pacing about, hands in pocket, lab coat edges flapping as he paced. “With you killing a boy’s Charizard. There are very few things, Leo, that will nullify your agreement with the police faster. And there’s no way we can cover this up. I’d have to document the pokemon as missing at the very least, the ranch would have to be investigated by a team of police psychic types, I’d have to examine the body if it was found…” The man threw himself into a nearby chair, while Leo leaned against the normal types examination table, watching. “You can’t hide a gun wound as something else without your resources. God, Giovanni, you’ve less rights than an average citizen, what makes you think for a second they won’t just… drag you away and fry your brain with invasive psychic techniques. I’ve seen men and women on breathing machines for the rest of their lives from the brain damage of being _grazed_ by an attack like that.”

A span in which Oak simply struggled to breathe, simply remembering the first funeral was enough to break his composure to pieces. So Leo stroked his Persian’s side, minding the rawer spans where ice’d blood and ice heal had clashed so spectacularly.

“So what you’re saying, professor, is which do I chose, murder and inevitable self-destruction from the fall out or… being helpful to someone I hate.” To the bushy eyebrow that was raised at him, and that shaky glare Leo corrected himself. “From… someone whose mother I hate with a passion.”

“It’s not that hard is it?”

“She slept with another man.”

To that sticking point Oak winced. He’d be a lair if he didn’t say it’d incensed him when his wife had left him for someone of better build and… Well it was one of the reasons they’d split, never mind staying together for the sake of the children, which they’d been trying to do before the divorce. Guilt flickered in his mind, after all his relationship with Delia was definitely sliding out of the safety of platonic waters and…

“That does complicate things, doesn’t it?”

And though statement there was an apology that Leo heard, the Rocket nodded his acceptance. Closing his eyes, the younger man sighed. Showing in that moment a weariness that was beyond the joys of wrangling a pain addled Persian.

“I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter, what she does, what she did. Her life and all that, but then I get back to that point, that she betrayed me, that she was bound to me….” Black ring clicked restlessly against tables edge, an expression that had terrified legions of Rocket’s set on his face. “Her, I can’t deal with her. I want her dead, and if the opportunity ever presents itself… It’ll be a temptation I can’t resist.” Pulling out Charizard’s pokeball from his pocket Leo considered the scratches and too smooth near liquid spans where fire had almost melted it past use. “As for her brat… I’ll try. Though how this helps me I don’t know.”

“Legacy implies a future benefit.”

“You’re not a funny man Sam.” Leo sighed. “I know you try but stick to science, you’ll keep the roof over your head that way. And also, for the love of Lugia, no poetry, ever again. Think of it as a personal favor, I’ll even pay you to do so.”

A snort, and though childish Sam crossed his arms over his chest and though far too old for it pulled a reasonable pout.

“You just don’t understand.”

“So you say.” Amusement, an almost smile, the ring slowed its pace. “Sam.” A mere utterance of a name, and one without fury or humor, to that the professor looked up. “What you did… I don’t condone it. You didn’t know though so I’m not angry. You just… deserve better than her. We both do...” A soft snarl, a hinting of temper barely tamed. “ _Did_ , in my case. But I’ve one warning, one that I want you to tell _her_ since she’s filed a restraining order as of yesterday.” Amusement warmed the last, then fell as grim fury took over. “If she ever hurts you there won’t be a body. There will be no traces. And all the psychic types will find is a wash of pain that seems endless.  Understood?"

Silence, shocked, wasn't an acceptable answer, so Oak nodded and wondered with something that hung between hope and despair if he'd be privileged to see the end of the Boss.

Not by gun fire, (despite Leo's insistence that this was how it would end Sam knew it wouldn't), or even fire (that had been tried once before, and had failed though all Leo owned had burned around him) but by a metamorphosis that would make the reconciliation of those... personalities impossible.  So though he feared, most sane men would, he smiled wryly at Leo, making  jab about how busy his schedule was but how he'd get about to it sooner rather than later.


	22. Chapter 22

Two paths

chapter 22

_A/N: A slight AU on the anime scene… partially because well it’s been years since I’ve seen the original and also because Ash isn’t so thick in this verse than in canon’s interpretation.  Will update warning tags next time I'm on,  Ash has some mild PTSD from the Aerodactyle incident  
_

 

He woke without meaning too, because nightmares were like that, dumping you from their world into the other as roughly as they could but lingering all the while. He didn’t jolt to sitting up, but lay still eyes open, shivering a bit. After a few moments of telling himself that it was then, not now, the old memory and the fear it carried went away a little bit. The bed sheets, grey in the gloom, green in the light, were let go of and a bit more twisted once they left his hands.

Still he didn’t smooth them like manners said he should he just looked to the left. No red numbers greeted his efforts. Confirmation of the expected, there was no clock, or rather the ones in this room weren’t electronic and in the right place. Thus this wasn’t his room. Wasn’t home. None of the clocks in the Professor’s house glowed, and the windows weren’t right for what was on the walls to be seen. So, because there wasn’t a time Ash decided it was well before he normally woke but early enough that it was probably super late. One moment, two, of staring at darkness, the last of the terrors fading, and all he had was memory.

Claws of stone wrapped around his middle, wings of earth sheering the sky and impossibly dragging them both up. His cries were lost in a wash of wind, the ground were falling back and away, Misty and Brock were there, then gone. Charmeleon’s roar of frustration blending to fury as his prey ran away, light from a distant vista as roars became more distant, then less distance.

The first flamethrower Charizard had spat had clipped them both. An accident so Ash told himself, the sheer ruthlessness of the fire type taking down the Aerodactyle and how he hadn’t even been glanced at after he’d been dropped dispelled any illusions of accident. As had incident after incident that had occurred after.

Brock had been the one to suggest just leaving him with the professor, Misty had agreed, and after their last camp site when he’d let everyone out for some off time… well it’d been a disaster that had taken _all_ of Misty and Bocks ‘mon _plus_ his Squirtle to put the fires out. So, though feeling like he was doing something wrong (it was safer, all three of them had agreed after that, and safer was good right? Better then not?) he’d kept passing Charizard to Oak. Oh he’d take him out for short trips, but never out of pokeball because like Oak had said when they talked, there was a chance something awful could have happened.

And he’d known that, in places he didn’t like to think about he knew something was wrong. Which is why when the league had rolled about he should have… He should have had things fixed. However you fixed something like this. He’d of gotten further if he had but the feeling of wrongness had crowded everything else out and he _hadn’t_. Hadn’t fixed anything. Hadn’t gotten higher then sixteenth because he hadn’t found time or a means or….

Ash hadn’t even been aware there were any problems on Oak’s end either. His hands found the sheets and twisted their edges around some more. Charizard had been angry at him, for whatever reasons, he’d never gone too far with any of them before, so he hadn’t known of the fly by attacks. Heck Oak hadn’t been aware of how bad it’d gotten until Tracy stumbled in scorched.

He’d been thinking about the wrongness, felt like he’d been choking on it, all the mistakes of before and that moment and everything that might be. He hadn’t been asked (he sort of suspected that the Professor wasn’t going to) what had happened. Why claws of another slant had picked him up and he was pretty sure when it came up (because Mom was too busy Mothering, but the question would come up and the fight the answer was going to bring was going to spectacular). She hadn’t put up with Gary’s bullying, she wouldn’t Giovanni’s, and that both scared and warmed Ash. Because Giovanni had watched, watched and seen panic and fear and pain and had smiled like it was the best thing ever.

Ash sort of guessed the man didn’t know how when those claws had lifted him up he hadn’t been there. He’d been back then, that first time. Because, here and now, he knew that if he’d been lifted higher his protests might off lost their edge of coherence.

Senseless babblings about an Aerodactyle might have tipped the man off.

Not that’d he’d of cared. A man who smiled at someone else’s pain wouldn’t care about _where_ or _when_ the sense of up and prickle of talons digging in took someone else.

The Rocket would have laughed.

To that he squirmed, then for other baser needs that made the restless fidgeting into something else. With a groan, soft because that dark shape by the bed’s edge, the one he’d been watching but trying not to think about too much, was asleep and he didn’t want to wake her by thinking too loud. Or being too loud. Not that he ever was quiet ever, but quieter and its import was something she’d of nattered him about. Especially half past whenever it was.

So though he really needed to hurry he got out of bed slowly and thus avoided the worst of the creaking and didn’t wake her up.

He’d been here often enough to know where the bathroom was, so he made the trip without seeing and did the rest that way too.

After, well after between the taste in his mouth and the nerves (and the fact he wasn’t able to wash his hands, habit and rearing left him with a lingering sense of “ew” about _that_ ) decided him. He slipped out, winding down halls till he found stairs, a quick tromp down those and he was a few rooms away.

And though it was darker than Dark cave he managed to find the fridge and sink, a quick wash and flick of the light switch to help that along and he was rummaging through shelves for cups and looking for the wipe towel at the same time. The order of his find was such that he had to use the towel to clean the glass off before setting it down, he probably should have cleaned the other glasses that he decided not to use but didn’t. The professor wouldn’t notice and a look at the clock really did show it _was_ half past crazy early yet still sort of late.

So he poured a glass from the tap, thinking it quickest, and then opened the fridge. It was a tame wonder for a boy who’d seen real wonders, the tops of mountains and the vistas tamer people put on their computer screens and called scenic.

Still tame or not it was impressive.

There were _piles_ of warm up meals (organic and fancy names that had to be specially delivered because the grocery store did not carry low sodium organic, no lactose whatever that was) and left overs that he knew the Professor didn’t cook (because he couldn’t). Most of it was Italian, or at least he thought the pasta was, and there was seafood, and not all the labels were in English. And then in the back, a few left in the front, (favorites Ash guessed, because that’s where you had to put favorites) was a _wall_ of fruit flavored waters and tropical fruit medlies, and smoothie mixes that probably should have been in the freezer. The fridge light from above shined down just right, making the whole a rainbow, which did some really interesting things to the tub-a-ware’d spaghetti second shelf down.

He was smiling, a silly smile at something irrelevant, and lost it quick when that familiar voice sounded.

“If you’re done I need something from inside.”

So Ash stepped back quick, doing his best not to cringe never mind the man looked tired. Even with black rings and tears all over his sleeves and shirt Leonardo Giovanni was scary. Snapping up a glass (a “no” glass) the man sent a glower at the undried water drops and him which was both suspicious and venomous. For a moment it was him and the Rocket, then the man was busy with the fridge, pulling one of (maybe?) Tracy’s drinks he soundlessly padded to the table and threw himself into the nearest chair.

Wordlessly Ash closed the fridge; a glare got him to close the cabinet the man should have done himself since he was in it last.

For a while it was him and the Rocket, ex, Boss, _whatever_ he was.   The man fiddled with the cap, it hissed open and he poured. Having got the simpler of the two drinks Ash didn’t have to fuss. Just drank and was glad when the awful taste in his mouth receded. Across the room he was being watched but didn’t care.

Didn’t respond as he was supposed to he supposed.

A kick, the chair opposite of the man slid forward, another one of those wordless things that might of meant something if he cared. But the thing was Ash didn’t.   He just wasn’t in the mood. He ached and there was that awful near nightmare of talons and up and…

And looking at the man bought it back, all of it.

He guzzled the remnants, not tasting a thing, then set the glass down on a span near the sink and that was it for manners and adult stuff like courtesy and respect and as for his invitation Ash just ignored it.

Except looking at him… It was small, but he could hear his voice, days past, nearer present, calling him brat, and Gary’s mother and… well he wasn’t everyone favorite kid in Pallet, he’d heard enough and was well mannered enough for what he’d been called to hurt.

So it might have been spite that resurrected something like manners and made him care a little bit.

“Good night Mr. Giovanni.”

Then he left for bed, leaving the Rocket looking if nothing else a little shocked when he just walked by and didn’t look back.


	23. Matter of Time

Two Paths to One End

Chapter 23

Despite Ash’s worries (and hopes, because really seeing one of the greatest trainers cowed by his mom would have been awesome) there was no screaming, no fighting, only a conversation he came into late and no one brought him up to speed too.

“So we’re agreed? Because I didn’t hear a “yes” Mrs. Katchem.”

“We’ve already been over-“

Both Leo and Mom looked up at Oak’s cough, they’d been speaking so heatedly they hadn’t heard him thump down the stairs. Seeing him the Rocket scowled, gripping a thick cup that wasn’t decorated with a black background and Red R’s or something equally evil but fitting. Considering it was Oaks house though maybe the man just didn’t have access to whatever evil cupware he owned. Whatever had been agreed to (or not, Mom was too cunning to fall for some old Rocket’s ploy, and if the smiled good morning was a bit smug… well that was Ash’s business) ws clearly effecting the ex-Boss’ temperament, the look the man cast him was sourer than Charizard. And thinking of fire types that must have hurt, cupping the mug so that fingers were wrapped around the hottest part of his mug, maybe that had something to do with Giovanni’s grouchiness.

More than happy to be ignored by the man Ash fielded Mom’s questions and worries, Oak’s salutations, and loaded his plate without any slowdown. Breakfast was laid out the way he liked it, bacon and pancakes galore, a dab of butter, which explained a lot of Pikachu’s enthusiasm (and low grade thunder shock) for getting them up and downstairs so fast. Hopping into the chair set for him was something like trying to act normal and not set up camp knowing there was going to be a storm. Still he didn’t, and with a warm “Pika” towards Persian the residential storm expert cheerily ignored all the warning signs and hopped from Ash’s lap to table top to steal the warmest piece of bacon off his trainer’s plate.

The usual squabble over the choicer pieces which devolved into a race to eat the best bits quickest which made up for most of the noise at the table. After a few moments of resolutely watching the air above Ash’s head some of the noises must of made the man pay attention to down, where most of the chewing was going on, because with a grimace he stood, taking coffee in hand, and stormed out.

It was a soundless sort of stomping, only shown to be angry by the slamming of the door leading out.

“Wha’thith ‘ob’m?”

Neither answered. With a smile that was part wince Mom passed him a napkin, whipping off a meals worth of spills and dribble Ash smiled his thanks. Then dug back in, scratching something enough like good manners that there wasn’t much in the way of mess at meals end.

Leaving Pikachu to curl up on the table post pig out Ash picked up plates and utensils, his only since the Mom and Oak were still going at it.

“Just bring your dishes when you’re done.”

“Thank you Ash,” Oak set his utensils to the side. “I’d better ah…. check with my guest.”

“You’re not going to finish?” And by that tone to Mom’s voice Ash knew Mom had cooked, not that Oak could, and really Giovanni cooking would have been creepy.

Seeing a epic guilt fest that nearly almost ended in the dreaded underwear questions Ash snapped up his plate and nearly ran to the sink that was tucked just back enough that with the water on full blast it was hard enough to hear that it too a little inattention to make him all but deaf to whatever was going on in the Professer’s kitchen.

He also might have washed his plates five or six times just to make sure they were super clean and so he couldn’t hear anything. A few moments and Mom stomped over. Unlike the Rocket she was obvious when irritated and even though she was she didn’t slam the plates down.

“I swear, some days…” A huff, scarily like Misty’s. Ash took the silverware first, once those were sparkling and suds free he took up the first plate. Oak’s, because the man just hated syrup for some odd reason. “Professor Oak’s asked you to help him clean up parts of the reserve that were burned, when you’re done here. I’ve asked the man not to make you work too hard, considering.”

Sort of suspecting something like that –after all the man’d made him fix miles of fence after the Tauros incident- Ash shrugged. Not the best way to spend a day after the craziness of yesterday but he wasn’t that hurt from Charizard and-

The plate slipped from his suddenly lax grip only to clatter on the bottom of the sink, a quick check showed no chinks, so it wasn’t something else he owed the professor. Pretending to clean, not really seeing, he was going to try to act calm, mature even (considering how all the adults around him weren’t well the bar wasn’t that high to beat) until mom took the plate from him and never mind it wasn’t wholly clean, she set it in the drying rack.

“Ash, what’s wrong?”

Laughter bubbled in the back of his throat, because really, what wasn’t. He recalled the stretches of burning and Squirtle getting singed when the squirt gun in his paws had been melted in a full blast fireblast… He wanted to say “nothing” because wasn’t he old enough to handle his own problems? But the realization, that truth that he wasn’t because this wouldn’t have happened if he was nearly turned the hysteria giggled into a sob before either could come out.

Swallowing against something thick and jagged Ash shrugged, resorted to the nearly stereotypical response of avoidance. Looking down and being quiet, because if he talked he wasn’t too sure that was going to tumble out.

Mom waited, then when waiting took a little too long turned off the water and waited some more.

It felt like forever, but a quick glance at the clock told him he was edging into the five minute mark.

“Mom, have you seen Charizard since… Well when I was brought back.”   He didn’t know how much she knew so being vague seemed best.

Lips pressing into a thin line Mom considered something, then running a hand through her brown hair she heaved a sigh of irritation into the quiet. “You mean after the professor carried you back, that… _man_ trailing behind him complaining that Samuel was going to throw his back lugging you about? I didn’t see Charizard at that point and only saw him for a moment after Oak released him from his pokeball. His aides wheeled him off to a different part of the labs, I didn’t follow.” A smile, fond and ever warm. “I had a certain impulsive someone that needed worrying about a bit more than a dragon who can take care of himself.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Ash.” And never mind the wet, of his hands and sides that had served as makeshift towels because Oak didn’t leave his lying about in the obvious places, so Ash had improvised, and was hugged, wet non withstanding. “Mom’s always worry. It’s a Mom thing.”

“But you shouldn’t have too, that’s not fair.” And though tired and achy and a bit singed he felt more _steady_ since, since nightmares and yesterday and… well heck since the fires in Giovanni’s mansion even. Feeling a bit better he hugged back and smiled.

He was released, and his smile stayed, her’s too even. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Why do you _always_ say that?”

“Because I’m your Mother and I just know this, alright?” A nudge and he scooted aside. “I’ll take over here, go out, enjoy the sun…”

“And the reseeding, and whatever you do to charred ground after fire types run everywhere burning things...”Ash groaned. “So Oak has him?”

“Professor Oak’s likely to have him in storage in his ball, but you should ask him.” A twist of the knob and the water turned on. “I know you need to fix things a bit Ash, but take it easy, alright?”

“I’ll try.” With a grin more cheeky than anything else he lingered until she shooed him out with flicks of water that might of devolved into an all-out splash battle had they been home and not at someone else’s.

Once the thundering of his footsteps pounded towards the door Delia managed to stop laughing. Turning off the water she cleaned up first her mess, then his because the day he remembered… well it was likely to be a long one off. Closing the door he’d carelessly left open was the last, and she lingered long enough to see he’d teared his way down the patio and a bit of a ways down the path to approach the white coated Samuel asking questions and greeting him all at the same time. A quick glance assured her Giovanni wasn’t about and that was fine enough a way to start the day.

Sure that everything would be alright she closed the door behind her, clicking it locked without a thought until realization struck her after she was done.

No one ever locked their doors in Pallet, and only in the worst weather did you even think to close your windows.

Blinking sharply, to better push back the stinging she could have blame _him_ , was horridly tempted, but in the end she didn’t. _He_ might inspire old fears, older habits, but she was the one who had obliged them.

Alone with old fears and familiar anxieties she made her way to the table where Pikachu napped. He murmured grouchily, letting out a few sparks in warning until he realized she was petting. Then he warmed, curled into it with a loopy smile and a happy “chu”. Under her hands he slipped back to sleep, and watching him sleep Delia felt something like hope return to her.

Everything would be alright in the end.

It would just be a matter of time.


End file.
